


The Wizarding Kingdom of Camelot

by queenmoony



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate History, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 1920s, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Arthur Pendragon Lives (Merlin), Childhood Sweethearts, Coming of Age, Confusing, Eventual Romance, F/F, F/M, Fate & Destiny, Female Merlin (Merlin), Fun, Gen, Hogwarts, Hogwarts First Year, Hogwarts Third Year, M/M, Magic, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romance, Tags Are Fun, Underage Kissing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 06:20:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24466342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenmoony/pseuds/queenmoony
Summary: Long ago, humans waged war against magic. The Great Merlin created a magical world, a hidden realm, for the persecuted to hide.The Magical, Wizarding Kingdom of Camelot is formed around Hogwarts School of Wizardry. The magical royal Pendragon family rule.Emrys Merlin, a tomboyish and awkward little girl, was raised in the Muggle world. Then she gets a letter proclaiming that she has been accepted to Hogwarts. Magic and wonder await her, but so danger and darkness.History repeats itself and magic never dies.Merlin/Hogwarts fusion
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 56





	1. Triskelion

**Author's Note:**

> Working title. My first Merlin story and my first fanfic in years. Merlin/Arthur. Kind of reincarnation but not? This is a Merlin story set in a Harry Potter/Merlin fusion setting. 65% Merlin setting, 100% a Merlin story. Explaining it succinctly and shortly is difficult, but I hope you will bare with me. It will (hopefully) make sense! 
> 
> It features a girl Merlin and a boy Morgana, but even with the gender swap I promise you that they will be very in character. It is Merlin/Arthur, not quite sure of the background pairings, will tag those when I figure it out.

There is magic in the world. A magic that a king of Albion sought to purge from his Kingdom of Camelot in the 12th century. 

But magic is resilient. Magic cannot truly die, but it can be changed. Magical creatures and magical peoples went into hiding. The great wizard Merlin created another reality, another world, for the persecuted to live in. 

The tales of Merlin, of King Arthur, of the Knights of the Round Table, have filled volumes of historical texts. But history repeats itself. 

As history repeats itself, so to does magic. Magic must have balance. Magic is. Magic is light and dark and shadows. Magic is male and female and animal and other. 

But the balance is not equal. Rather the balance is like night and day. The day lasts longer than night, and light casts out darkness. 

In twilight times, times of upheaval, times of war, times of change, magic makes itself known. It sends us the three, the triskelion. 

The one that was made for magic.

The one made from magic. 

And the one that is made of magic. 

There is balance in magic. And the balance is about to be shifted.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

1912, Camelot, Albion

In the most ancient and noble manor of the royal family of Pendragon, Ygraine trudged through the honorable hallway. Her pacing weighed down by that which was weighing on her mind. 

She was a stream of moonlight. Pale. Her silvery hair cascaded down wildly, untamed. Queen Ygraine was spirited in nature but reserved by nurture. But there was a chaos raging in her opal blue eyes. 

Her white lace nightgown, made of the finest spun acromantula silk, billowed in the drafty house. She looked otherworldly. And, perhaps, that is because the woman was. 

King Uther Pendragon was in his study, unaware of the battle warring within his wife. Gaius, his political ally and personal friend, was the headmaster of Hogwarts School of Magic and Wizardry. The law that King Pendragon had championed, barring muggleborn students, was getting an unusual amount of pushback from his usually amiable inferior. 

One might not think that the headmaster of a school would carry such clout, politically speaking. But Hogwarts was the sole school in all of the Wizarding World of Albion, let alonetheWizardingKingdomof Camelot. Hogwarts was the future of the wizarding kingdom. Uther had heard his brother-in-law, the wormy Agravaine, refer to Uther as the head of Camelot and Gaius as the neck. 

The law was still being processed by the Wizengamot. It was causing quite a stir. Uther had predicted as much, but he had not been prepared for Gaius's defiance. 

Uther heard a noise. He paused, the scratching of his quill on parchment silenced, and he strained to hear the sound. Footsteps. 

He reached for his wand, not expecting anyone else to be awake at this time. With a calm but powerful voice he called out, "Who is there?"

He had contemplated "Who goes there?" but ultimately deemed it unnecessarily pompous. Even a King as dedicated to tradition as he knows that one needs to adapt to certain things.

The footsteps stopped. A deep breath was drawn.

And his beloved wife answered, "It is just me, love."

The tension broke and peace erupted, "Come in."

"Unbidden?" She asked, Uther could hear the eyebrow raise in her voice. His smile turned into a smirk. He refused to show it, but he was fond of her petulant streak. 

"I bidded it," he teased.

She opened the door, the candle lights flickered, as did Uther's heart. She looked like an angel, rather than a witch. 

Not known for his legilimency, he was still struck by the worry marring her lovely face. 

"What ever is the matter, Ygraine?" 

She stood at the open door, unwilling to take a single step further. The darkness was a halo that marked her silhouette. 

"I believe…," a rattling breath, a raspy gasps, "Well, my King, I believe that I am with child." 

The words were too good to be true, too good to be believed. 

Over eleven years they had been married. Ygraine had barely graduated from Hogwarts when they wed. A marriage of love that had spawned from an arranged betrothal, how rare and wonderful. If they had conceived and bore a child when they had first begun, their child would be a first year by now. A Slytherin like all of the Pendragon family, no doubt. 

At first, the struggle to conceive was swept away. They were young, Ygraine barely more than a child! They had plenty of time. But as the years passed, grains falling in eternity's hourglass, whispers started. Pureblooded barrenness plagued the kingdom while muggleborn wizard rates soared. Would the royal pureblood line die? Would it mean the death of the monarchy? Or would some schemer with a water thin blood tie claim the throne?

Or would the King take a consort to bare him an heir? Or divorce his wife and take another? Which of those two fears scared Ygraine the worst? 

Uther, for once, had the wisdom to gather his wits before he spoke, "Well, if you are with child," he chose his words with care, "then that would be joyous news indeed. What is it that troubles you so?" 

"Fear." 

Uther nodded as though he understood, regretting that Gaius had pursued academics and healing instead of focusing on purely healing, "I will find best midwitch healer that St. Mungo's has to offer to tend to you and the child."

How could she tell him? She looked away, not daring to catch his eyes. She had tried. She had tried so hard. 

The normal way, at first. Then herbal remedies. Then light potions and light spells. He knew of that, of course. But he knew nothing of her trips to Knockturn Alley. Of her collecting his blood and seed. 

How could she ever tell him? Of the darkest magic she had used in her desperation. How she had to look away as the wicked potion master made the brew, feeling sick to her stomach. She tried to convince herself that the corpse used had to have been a fetal pig, for how can she live with herself knowing the truth. But she did know, she knew. A fetus, a human fetus, an unborn baby, had been used in this most vile of potion. 

How could life, or anything of any light, come from such a sacrilegious act? 

She was afraid. Afraid of how weak she felt, how she could feel the magic seeping from her, afraid of the monster she had created. But most of all she felt afraid of the monster that she had become, of what she had done. 

She stayed in the door, darkness dancing behind her, light in front of her. 

Since she would not approach him, he stood from his desk and walked to her. He pulled her into his embrace. He did not notice how slight she was, that she had lost weight even though she had already been slender, or how she trembled. 

The pregnancy progressed. Ygraine bleed out blood and magic throughout it. Even the best midwitch could not figure out how to help. 

But as the baby grew inside of her, Ygraine's fears and resentment were cast out by the light of her love. This love was overwhelming. She had thought she could never love something more than she loved her husband, but how wrong she was. 

On the 31st of December, 1912, the Queen went into labor. It was a little early, but that was not what was concerning the healer. Ygraine looked like a ghost when the baby boy was handed to her. 

The mother looked at her child. His cry stopped as he looked at her. Big, dark blue eyes that were full of love looked at her in wonder.

No matter the darkness that had gone into this child, Ygraine was consumed with the feeling that he was good, that he was light. 

Her final breath was a breath of relief. 

The baby wailed. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

1914

Lord Gorlois Cadogan was a great political ally. However, no matter how much King Uther respected and loved the brave and noble wizard, Gorlois was an annoyance. Loud and bawdy, ever the consummate Gryffindor. Though Uther had a soft spot for the man. Back in the day, when Uther equally a prince and an auror, Gorlois had been his partner. Uther owes Gorlois his life. 

Vivienne Lyra Black-Cadoga was another matter entirely. She was beautiful and bold, but showed a restraint and composure that her husband lacked. 

Gorlois's blonde hair was beginning to turn white with age, and the crow's feet that lined his bright brown eyes showed his many years of laughter. Vivienne Lyra was not only younger but oddly unchanged. Her inky curls were arranged perfectly, as were her black dress robes. She was beautiful. 

He was looking at her with a desire he had not felt since Ygraine. He mourned her so. His heart was not ready to move on, but his body was. But he could never do that to Gorlois or to Ygraine's precious memory. 

Gorlois's laughter faded, and an uncharacteristically solemn look graced his big, friendly face, "Working with you sure was the good ol' days, aye there Uther?"

"Yes," they were good and they were old and they were gone.

"Who would 'ave known being in politics would be more straining and dangerous than being aurors?" 

Uther had known, had always known. When he was a green auror, he sometimes found himself hoping to die heroically to avoid the crown that awaited him. But the dragon took that away from him when it killed his father, King Constantine the VI. 

"Yes, indeed." 

There was a pause, as Gorlois summoned his not inconsiderable amount of courage and said, "The decrees are causing quite the stir."

Ah, of course. One does not invite themself to dine with the king without some ulterior motive, even it seems the oldest of friends could not be true in their intentions.

"I expected as much."

"Don't get me wrong, Uther. In the ignorance of my youth, I would have disagreed with every single one. But wisdom cost me my youth, quite a pretty knut. I want a refund, to be honest. It was not worth it," Gorlois's forced humor made Uther grimace. "It pains me to say that I understand where you are coming from. On most of them. The Statute of Secrecy is a big deal, bigger than I can fathom. I get regulating and monitoring muggleborn wizard. But banning them entirely? And ordering the exile and executions of so many magical creatures? And banning whole branches of magic kinds. I mean, not only did you call for an extermination on dragons in Camelot, but you retroactively outlawed dragonlords!"

The impassioned spiel had his emotion, but they were far too eloquent to be his words. He leveled a stare at Vivienne Lyra, her eyes held his. She was unflinching, unflappable, and unapologetic. Clearly she had coached her husband.

A crashing sound ripped Uther from gazing at Vivienne Lyra. Which was quite right, he should not be looking at a married woman in such a way. But it was like looking into the starry night sky. 

"What was that racket?" Asked Gorlois, jovial smile a bit tight. He rarely let his mental scarring show, but he had been quite startled. 

Uther welcomed the distraction, "I do not know, perhaps a lousy house elf dropped our desserts." 

But into the dining hall ran Arthur, his speed and sure footedness a testament to a natural athletic ability in the toddler. His golden blonde hair was a mess, his bright blue eyes were full of tears, and his scream was gut wrenching. Red blood poured from his nose. 

Uther went to his son. The king knelt down and his little boy buried his face into his father's chest. The sobs were heartbreaking. 

Morgause Aquila Black-Cadogan entered in shortly after. She had the coloring of her father, but features of her beautiful mom. 

"Is the baby alright?" She asked, blinking her big dark eyes and smiling. 

"What happened?"

The girl rocked back and forth, heel to toe, heel to toe, hands clasped behind her back, "He fell while playing on his baby broom."

"Oh, the poor dear," Vivienne Lyra sighed. Uther jolted, not having realized that the beautiful woman was right by him, he turned to her. The woman handed the baby her monogrammed handkerchief, the V. L. B. stitched in silver thread. He looked at Vivienne's endless eyes as he took the thoughtful offering. 

"Come along, Arthur," groused Uther, caring but firm.

He brought Arthur to his nursemaid. He did not return to the dinner, after enduring so much political turmoil he was not quick to lose another ally or friend to this bickering. King Uther sent one of his servants to give his guests a formal apology and a warm welcome. They had the use of the guest wing.

Lady Vivienne Lyra Black-Cadogan did not utilize the comforts of her personal suite, rather she chose to make use of the king's chambers. And he allowed her in. 

To his surprise she was still there when awoke. She had his bedsheet wrapped around her body. 

"You should return to your husband."

"Good morning to you too, dear," she greeted in turn, giving him an indecipherable look. 

"That is not an appropriate way to address your king." 

She slid the sheet off, he looked away, "It is too late for proprietary between us now, is it not, your majesty?" 

"No, I do not believe so, Mrs. Cadogan." 

"You weren't calling me Mrs. Cadogan last night. You were calling me Vivienne," her voice lowered. "And you even called me Ygraine once."

"Get out."

"Now, I did not mean to-" 

King Uther Pendragon roared, "Get out!"

The determination etched into her beautiful face faltered, but it was just a flicker, "I beg your forgiveness, your majesty. Please, I spoke brashly. After being with you last night, it hurt to see how coldly you regarded me this morning. Please." 

She was looking at him, and her eyes enchanted him. And the rest of her too. 

Soon they were together again, but before another mistake could be completed, but not before another sin stained his soul, he heard a scream.

It made his boiling blood freeze. The scream was Arthur. Uther somehow managed to throw his night robe on before apparating towards the scream. 

Arthur was curled up, and Uther saw the blood seeping from his son's stomach. He turned and saw Morgause Aquila standing, Arthur's toy sword in her hand, but the usually dull edge was sharp and gleaming red. 

Morgause smiled, "Sorry, it was an accident." 

Uther held the wound on his son's stomach, to staunch the bleeding. 

After the court physician had treated Arthur he summoned Headmaster Gaius to tend to the injured prince. 

Azkaban was dismissed by the Wizengamot Council, after all the girl was only six, but they agreed that Morgause Aquila Black-Cadogan was to be exiled from the Magical Kingdom of Camelot. 

Lord Gorlois Cadogan's meek defense, "But she is only a child. It was an accident, it was accidental magic." 

Lady Vivienne Lyra Black-Cadogan was calm, cold, till she was called to talk, "King Uther Pendragon is a coward and monster. He is so desperate for power that he seeks to destroy anything or anyone that he fears is stronger than him. He is weak, his son is weak. I am strong. My daughter is strong. I have taken what I want from him. I leave my seats and bank vaults to my older sister. I go with my daughter." 

Shock reverberated through the stands. 

By the trial she already knew that her plan was in motion. Knew that an heir to the throne was within her. 

A kowtowed Golois apologized, but followed after. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ealdor Village, in the Muggle Welsh Countryside 

"Goodness gracious, how many pints did you have mate?" 

The voice was decidedly too cheerful, too unfamiliar and too feminine to put Balinor Merlin at ease. His aching head felt like a cracked open coconut. He opened his eyes. Even the gossamer pale light of cold dawn was too bright. 

He raised his hand to cover his eyes, "Note to self, never apparate without knowing exactly where you are going." 

The rhyme will help him remember this important little life lesson. He was far more used to flying by dragon

The voice guffawed, "What are speaking about?" 

He blinked his eyes ferociously before looking at the girl. Balinor Merlin was, yes, a descendant of that Merlin. More important to him than his legendary great-great-great whatever was his hideously embarrassing initials. Let it be known that his middle name was Ambrose. B.A.M was far better than B.M. More than a Merlin, he was a Ravenclaw through and through. Studious, dedicated, he sought knowledge and valued wisdom.

And all that logical B.M. flew out of his mind upon seeing the kindly eyes of the sweet faced girl. 

Love at first sight must be some sort of magic. And Balinor Ambrose Merlin, descendant of Merlin the Great, one of the last of the dragon lords, was very, very magical.

"Uh, hi," Balinor greeted, eloquent as ever.

The young woman smiled, a genuine and kind smile, "Hello, can I help you?" 

She was dressed in farm clothes and had a basket of eggs in her hand. Chicken eggs, not dragon eggs. That would be weird. Balinor suspected that he had sustained some head trauma. His brain usually made more sense than all this rubbish. 

"Muggle?" He asked her.

Fortunately, she misunderstood him, "Oh, you poor man. You were mugged! Here," she set her basket of chicken eggs down and pulled him up, "I will bring you to my house. You need to rest up, I'll get some breakfast in you." 

Balinor smiled, a bright shining thing, "I like breakfast." 

Almost a year later and he was still eating Hunith's breakfasts. But she had stopped, her stomach not able to stomach eggs and sausage or beans on toast in the morning. 

She tried to broach the subject. 

"If you had a child," she scrambled to cover up for herself, "you know, in the future, what would you name him or her?" 

He dipped his muffin into some fallen butter, "Um, probably Merlin?"

Hunith was a sweet Muggle but was prone to some know-it-allness, something that the Ravenclaw Balinor was fond of, "You would name your child Merlin Merlin?" 

He chuckled around a bite of food, swallowed and said, "Yep, my son, Merlin Merlin. Named after my great great whatever great grandda, Merlin." 

"Really."

"Nah, now that I say it out loud it sounds…"

Hunith suggested," Stupid?"

"I was going to say redundant," Balinor fake pouted. 

"So, are you sticking to Merlin Merlin."

He looked out the window of their kitchen. Lightning lit up the rainy, grey sky, "Emrys. I would name my son Emrys, after my ancestor. Emrys Merlin." 

"And what if this theoretical offspring of your's was a girl?" 

"Emrys is pretty enough for a girl's name, don't you think?"

Hunith took a breath. Thunder boomed in the distance. Balinor looked out the window, his face was apprehensive, strange. She decided not to tell him. 

But she said, "Emrys Merlin, it is beautiful." 

"Yeah," Balinor mumbled, eyes on the dark sky. 

He had disappeared before she told him about the baby. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

30th of July 1915, Avalon Isle

Vivienne Lyra Black had come to Avalon, the secret and mysterious island, and could sense the wild magic. It felt so free, nothing like the tame and controlled magic of Camelot. Avalon was a wolf, Camelot some annoying yipping lapdog in comparison.

She looked down upon the baby in her arms. Her dark hair, her fair skin, but she was disappointed that the greenish blue eyes were Uther's.

A startlingly beautiful baby. 

"Can I hold my baby sister?" Cooed Morgause. 

"The child is a boy, which will serve my purpose well," she handed the baby to her daughter. "His name is Morgan Corvus. And he will be the King of the Wizarding Kingdom of Camelot." 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

July 31th, 1915, Ealdor Village 

The day after Morgan Corvus was born, a baby on the other side of the country was born.

Hunith was alone. Muggle phones had been invented but Hunith, a farm girl in the middle of the countryside, saw no use in the expensive and unexplainable gadget. Hunith was a Muggle and, as such, did not have an owl to send a message. 

She focused on her breathing and pushed when a contraction hit. Hunith held the slimy little baby. The baby was silent and limp. Terror flooded her. She held the baby on her shoulder and patted, as she had seen other mothers burp their babies. She prayed to the Lord and then she heard the baby cough then a cry. Relief flooded her, love flooded her. 

"Emrys Merlin, I do love you, my girl."

Still attached by the umbilical cord, Hunith waddled to the nearest neighbor, a few kilometers away, holding her baby. The baby cuddled to her mother's chest, listening to and feeling her mom's heartbeat. 

In a land of myth, in a time of magic, the destiny of the wizarding kingdom rests on the shoulders of a young girl. Her name is Merlin.


	2. The Call of DESTINY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "And above all, watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places. Those who don't believe in magic will never find it," -Graham Greene
> 
> Arthur meets Morgan. Hunith discovers something a bit odd about her baby. Destiny is on track.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter (should be) the sortings! I think that I know my decision, but it is difficult. I can argue Merlin for all four houses, as well as Morgan(a). I can picture Arthur in three of them and Gwen in two. I want Arthur and Merlin in the same house because of REASONS which seems to be the most difficult factor. 
> 
> This is heavily inspired by the first few seasons of Merlin and the first 4 Harry Potter books. It might get darker like both series did, but, rest assured, I am too weak to kill many. And there will be romance! 
> 
> WHAT HOUSES DO YOU THINK THEY SHOULD BE IN? Leave your thoughts in the comments in the towel section below!
> 
> Warning: Wizarding World of Harry Potter and Arthurian mythologies are mixed together in this story in a way that I am loving, but Wizarding World, Arthurian legends, and the real world geographies have mixed together to make a confusing mess that I am letting go. I am directionally impaired. My attempts at research just left me more perplexed. So I am just making it my own. The magical Kingdom is much closer together than the Wizarding world. So sorry. 
> 
> Further warning for bad prophetic poetry.
> 
> Last chapter was Uther heavy, this chapter is Arthur heavy, but next chapter Merlin will get more time in the spotlight.

Being the prince of a magical kingdom sounds great. 

And it was in some ways. 

Hogwarts was a short boat trip away. The Wizarding Kingdom of Camelot was built around Hogwarts. Camelot sat upon the coast of the Lake, in the Lake was an island, on that island was Hogwarts. 

The Magical World of Albion was made up of a handful of Wizarding Kingdoms, hidden amongst the United Kingdom. Each Kingdom was relatively small. The center of every Kingdom being about the size of a medium sized Muggle city, with a splattering of tiny villages surrounding it. But Camelot is special. It is special because it had been founded by the Merlin and Arthur of history, because Camelot is the home of the Ministry of Magic and of the Wizarding Wizengamot. Camelot was the capital of Albion, much to the resentment of some of the other kingdoms. But, perhaps most of all, Camelot was special because of Hogwarts. 

Hogwarts was the only legitimate wizarding school in all of Albion. All the young witches and wizards of all of Albion had to go through Camelot to get to Hogwarts. 

He always eagerly looked forward to trips to the school. Not that Arthur got to see the students, but he wast taught by the professors there. Headmaster Gaius was his personal tutor. But seeing the students strangely only served to further his loneliness. 

Arthur's name was recorded in The Book of Acceptance when, at three months, he laughed and his stuffed griffon toy danced. 

Having just turned 9, 11 and his Hogwarts acceptance seemed an eternity away. 

His father was very solemn when he was explaining the situation. About how his dear old friend had passed and that they were taking in the man's only son. For some reason Arthur's father seemed to expect Arthur to react with anger. Arthur was ecstatic, "I get a little brother?"

"He is my ward, and he is younger than you," Uther admitted, tentative. 

Arthur had always wanted an older brother. Someone to play with him, to teach him to duel, to duel with wand and sword, to protect him. But now he was imagining being that to someone else. He would be this little boy's guardian, teacher and friend. 

They waited at the gate of the castle. Arthur standing behind his father's shimmering dark silver robes. The Pendragon colors were officially gold and scarlet, for King Arthur the 1st had actually been a Gryffindor, aided by his Slytherin Merlin adviser. But as leadership, politics and diplomacy became more important to the ruling magical royal family, taking over from the formerly reigning loyalty, courage and defense, Slytherin house became the expected norm for Pendragons. During special events, such as Yule Balls, All Hallow's Eve, the Battle of Camdann Memorial Day Celebration, and so on, the royal gold and scarlet were brought out. However the day to day wardrobe was more neutral, generally greys, blues and blacks with white, silver and gold accents. 

Arthur was overwhelmed by his excitement, but, while he stood waiting suddenly and unexpectedly nerves besieged him. His father had brought just a small welcoming party, so as to not overwhelm the poor lad. It was Uther, Arthur, Uther's adviser Sir Geoffrey Monmouth, one of his Knights of Walpurgis, Tickety-Boo the house elf, and Morgan's newly hired governess Nimueh.

The carriage pulled up. Uther himself had sent his own royal carriage, a gilded and golden thing fit for a fairy tale illustration. The skeletal creatures pulling it gave Arthur the creeps. Ghostly eyes embedded in a night black skull stared directly at Arthur, he took a step back and cast his eyes back towards the carriage.

The carriage door opened to reveal Morgan Corvus, and Arthur's enthusiasm wavered, for just a moment. Not due to disappointment, but jealousy. 

Perhaps that was what his father had expected from him. 

All the servants, human and house elf, and his father's political advisers and cohorts had always given Arthur the utmost praise. His father was a bit more stingy with his words of affirmation. But all else espoused his many virtues; his superior athleticism, his quick mind, his magical prowess, his singular beauty.

Upon seeing Morgan, he felt all the compliments he had stored spill out from him. This boy was far more handsome than Arthur. Morgan, it should be noted, had his name written in The Book of Acceptance when at seven weeks his cry broke the glass baby bottle that was laying by him in his crib. Morgan tripped out of the thestral drawn carriage, but Arthur's petty moment of satisfaction was squashed. Morgan was caught by his own accidental magic! 

Uther himself awed over such a feat, "Your father had spoken of your impressive magical ability in our correspondence, but I assumed that he was exaggerating. You are going to be quite the wizard someday." 

Morgan was drawn to Uther, as a flower follows the sunlight, "Thank you, your majesty." Morgan bowed. The movement was so graceful and fluid that Arthur narrowed his eyes, and the spiteful suspicion that Morgan Corvus had faked the fall and that the show of 'accidental' magic was highly intentional came unbidden to Arthur's mind.

"I am sorry for your loss," Uther offered the required societal nicety. 

The boy nodded graciously, "Thank you, your majesty. I was quite saddened by his passing last year. After moving around for so long, I am glad that you have taken me in." 

"Of course. I knew of his… demise but did not realize your unfortunate situation. Once I was elucidated, I was quite convicted that it was best for you to come here."

"Thank you," Morgan bowed, again. Arthur refrained from rolling his eyes.

"This," Uther gestured to Nimuah, who stepped forward accordingly. Nimuah was beautiful, but she had been pretty reserved towards Arthur. Looking at Nimuah made Arthur blush, which was not dignified, so he did his best not to gaze at her. Admittedly, his best was only so-so. Nimuah's courtesy was low enough to be properly respectful but not so deep as to imply an undue amount of deference, "is Lady Nimuah Rosier. She is a gifted and educated witch who just graduated from from her apprenticeship from Professor Alice, Hogwarts's resident potions mistress. Alice is married to Headmaster Gaius and the two of them are also healers." 

Morgan was painfully genuine as he said, "I look forward to learning from you."

"I look forward to teaching you," Nimuah nodded. The two of them, with their pitchblack hair, moonlight white skin, and beautiful eyes, could have been easily been taken as sister and brother. 

"And this is," Uther paused, grimacing. Uther was a king, and though he was known to indulge in humor on occasion, he was a serious man. He hated to be ridiculous, and he felt ridiculous as he continued on, "Tickety-Boo." 

Arthur tried to disguise his snort. His father's solemn voice saying such a delightful sounding word. Uther ignored his son's reaction, explaining, "He is your personal house elf." 

Tickety-Boo had outlandishly big bat wing like ears, big even for a house elf. His ears perked up at the mention of his name, but they swooped down when the house elf bowed, his long nose touching his toes. The house elf did not speak, unusual for the rather talkative young creature. 

As though Arthur was a forgotten afterthought, Uther pushed his son forward, "And, of course, this is my son, Arthur."

Uther always introduced Arthur as Prince Arthur Pendragon. The most obvious reason for Uther to forgo such a formality was that Morgan was all of six and the king was being informal for the little boy's comfort, but Arthur did not fully believe that. Still, Arthur summoned the respect and chivalry that had been ingrained in him since birth, "Welcome to my home, Morgan. It is an honor to meet you." 

Oh no, more bowing, Morgan bowed and said, "No, I am honored to be meeting you, Prince Arthur. I cannot thank you enough for sharing your home with me."

Worst of all, as Morgan looked up and smiled at him, a sweet, genuine smile, Arthur could not find it within himself to hate the poor orphaned boy. 

He smiled in return. 

The boy seemed afraid of him. Arthur clapped his hand on Morgan's slight shoulder and the younger boy recoiled. 

The little boy followed him around the courtyard. It was a lovely spring day, the green grass was brilliantly bright and the trees were filled with white and bluish pink blossoms. The sky was a pale, grayish blue, but there were dark clouds on the horizon. Morgan's big eyes followed Arthur, but his body stayed a distance away. 

"Come along, Morgan," the prince sighed. 

"What?" He asked. 

"We are playing." 

Morgan looked around, "What are we playing?" 

"What do you want to play?" 

The boy was only six, but after a moment of careful consideration, "Perhaps we could play school?" 

Arthur thought playing school sounded a bit dull, but Morgan's eyes were bright, "Sure, we shall play Hogwarts. I am Professor Pendragon, professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts. What house are you in?" 

A quizzical look was etched upon his face, "What house are you in?"

"I am not in Hogwarts, yet. My father was in Slytherin." 

"I'll be in Slytherin then!"

"You must have a wand," Arthur commands.

Morgan's mouth opened and he gasped, "You have a wand?"

Arthur fidgeted with the golden dragon pendant that was affixed to his dark blue cloak, "Well, not my real forever wand. But I do have a practice wand. I am to leave that with my personal tutor, Gaius." Arthur saw the opportunity to transform his shameful admission into a brag, "Gaius is the Headmaster of Hogwarts. I, as prince, am educated by him." 

The effect was as Arthur wished, Morgan's greenish blue (or bluish green? Oh whatever) eyes opened wide, "Wow, that is amazing!" 

"Many believe that wands give wizards magic, but wands are really just a way of focusing and channeling the magic inherent to the wizard," Gaius's words came out of Arthur's throat, sounding far different than Gaius's gentle and humble voice.

They went about the courtyard, collecting branches and twigs as possible candidates for their wands. 

Arthur's chosen wand was a branch that more resembled a sword than a wand. Morgan picked a twig that had some blossoms and leaves on it, which he claimed gave it an enchanting quality. The prideful prince thought it gave it a girly quality more so than an enchanting one, but had enough trained decency that kept him from declaring that to his new friend. 

They were working on dueling dark wizards. This involved a lot of silly stick waving and rolling about on the grass. Arthur would later  
be disappointed to find out the lack of cartwheels involved in proper dueling. 

When the rainstorm hit, the two children shrieked with a delighted exaggeration and they raced into the palace. 

Everything seemed well. 

Morgan's bedroom was near Arthur's, as Arthur had insisted upon when first hearing the news about getting a 'brother. ' The two had played till Uther himself declared it past their bedtime and commanded them to go to sleep. When Arthur mentioned the idea of a sleepover, Uther denied it, "Mass at St. Jerome's starts at seven am. If you two had this mugglish sleepover, we would never make it through the floo on time."

Arthur was feeling particularly brave, "Well, Reverend Solomon says that there are sermons at 9:30 and 11 o'clock-"

Uther's face darkened, and Arthur stopped abruptly. There was a terribly tense moment. Finally Uther gritted out, "Those are for the Muggles." 

Realization mixed with fear twisted Arthur's pretty face, "I did not think of that, my apologies, father." 

Uther gave a sharp nod and a bitter, "Go to bed." 

As Arthur laid in his comfy bed, under his warm, soft blankets, he found it difficult to sleep. A restlessness plagued him, anxiety eating away at him. He needs to go to sleep now, else he will go to sleep later, when he was at church. The calming smell of incense and the soft light trickling through the stained glass windows, along with the serene voice of the pastor, had proven to be a disastrous combination for young Arthur before. The his Heavenly Father, the King of Heaven, may be forgiving, but his earthly father, King of Camelot, was most decidedly not. It had hurt to sit on the hard stone of his throne the next day. 

Arthur's attempt to threaten himself into sleeping was not successful, but, even with this buzzing energy within his mind, he was too tired to get up. 

Then he heard it. It was this unearthly wail. His groggy mind tried to recall if it was the hag or banshee known for their shrieks, perhaps it was both? But he managed to flop out of bed and skidded his way to the hall.

It was coming from Morgan's room. He ran to his new friend, his new brother. 

Morgan was thrashing in his bed, body convulsing unnaturally, and the scream emanated from his open mouth. Arthur rushed to him, and, as soon as he laid a hand upon the boy, Morgan became unbelievably still and his eyes open. But, instead of being greenish blue (bluish green?), they were fire. 

Morgan opened his mouth, but the voice that came out of the little boy was that of an old woman:

"There are two coins  
gleaming with light,  
Four sides, three people,  
two days, one night,  
A coin for each eye,  
payment to cross the river,  
But who is the ferryman,  
and who is the giver?

The river's path corrodes  
destiny engraved stone,  
One magic, two hearts, three souls,  
More than blood and bone."

Arthur's "What the bloody 'ell?" was very warranted. 

Morgan's body relaxed, the flames burning in his eyes were extinguished. After Morgan caught his breath and noticed Arthur, he asked, "What happened? What are you doing here?"

Arthur, ever eloquent, managed to say, "Really bad poetry?" 

Morgan, too out of it to be his normal reserved self, made a face and said, "What?"

Nimuah entered like a ghost, footsteps not making a sound. 

"Master Black, Prince Arthur, what is this commotion?" Her voice was calm. 

Arthur looked away, feeling ungentlemanly upon seeing a fine young lady in her night things and trying in earnest to redeem himself.

Stalwartly not looking at Lady Nimuah Rosier, Arthur supplied an answer, "Morgan had a nightmare. " 

He could feel her gaze upon him. 

"Morgan, is this true?" 

The shuddering breath that Morgan took conveyed fear, "Yes, a terrible, terrible nightmare."

Arthur could not discern if Morgan had suddenly recalled having a nightmare or if the child was an incredible liar. Morgan's body shook and he tried to choke back a sob. 

"Arthur," Nimuah said, "go to bed, I will tend to Morgan." 

Arthur stared past the woman, fixing on MMnorgan, "You alright, Morgan?" 

"Yes, I am."

Arthur nodded and crept back to his bed. He tried to remember the strange words that Morgan had said, but they were weird and nonsensical. He would lay till a merciful slumber would eventually claim him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Hunith was five months pregnant with Emrys Merlin, she had severe pain in her lower back. Sometimes she could hardly walk. One awful night she could barely sleeping, for every attempt to adjust her body to find comfort pain would stab her in the back.

When she woke up, surprisingly refreshed and strangely pain-free, she was relieved. At Hogwarts a quill wrote Emrys Merlin in big, fancy calligraphy in The Book of Acceptance, for taking away her mother's pain with her magic. 

Hunith knew that Emrys Merlin was odd. The fat little baby girl with her too bright blue eyes that seemed far too understanding. But Hunith loved her. Loved her more than she thought possible for one human to love another human being. It did trouble her mind when she pondered her daughter's future. How would such an odd child find their way in life? How would Merlin find friends or love? 

The oddness that she initially thought was due to merely an atypical mind or personality was quickly revealed to be something far more different than she could have possibly imagined. 

Hunith was a mother with a mother's intuition, but she became a champion in creating excuses. She blamed her faulty memory, weakened by fatigue. Oh, she must of simply forgotten that she gave Merlin her blanket. For what was the alternative? That her little baby had somehow magically summoned her favorite blankie to her? 

That was ridiculous, wasn't it?

...wasn't it?

At 6 months the denials could no longer be believed. 

Hunith walked into the kitchen of her little, ramshackle farmhouse. The kitchen that her and Balinor used to have breakfast in. She twisted the ring on her wedding finger.

It had been an engagement ring. Balinor had claimed that it was a family heirloom. It was an intricately woven silver band. He said that if you looked closely it was a dragon, and the oval stone in the middle, a fire opal, was a dragon egg. 

Upon his leaving and the arrival of her baby bump, she started to refer to the ring as a wedding ring. Being an orphaned farmer was isolating, but Ealdor was a small village and a pregnant unmarried woman was quite the bit of gossip. When pressed, the usually honest Hunith lied and said that her and her financially destitute husband traveled to his hometown to have a cheap, private church wedding there. 

She contemplated killing him off in this work of fiction, and a hurt and broken piece of her wanted to, seeing it as a bit of vengeance. Though her residual hope kept her from that. What if he returned? An unwed mother was one thing, a resurrection was quite another. Hunith said that Balinor moved to America for a job and would send for her and the baby when he was able to. 

Merlin was a good natured baby. On this particular day the baby was being quite cranky. No amount of nursing or rocking or singing seemed to calm her. Finally Hunith resolved to setting the inconsolable baby down in her cradle so she could take a few minutes to collect herself. The desire for a snack brought her to the kitchen, she got distracted by looking out the window. It was snowing. 

While the troubled young mom stared out the window, she heard a nearby crash. She gasped. Looking towards the sound, hand held over her chest. 

The biscuit barrel had fallen to the ground, the porcelain container shattering. Before the relief of such a mundane explanation for the surprising noise, the unexplainable

Hunith watched in amazement as a ginger digestive biscuit rose from the debris. It floated out of the kitchen and she followed, as if in trance, mesmerized. 

The cookie floated up the stairs, into her loft bedroom, over the wooden railing of the old crib, and into Merlin's little hand. 

The baby held it up in her little fist, a pose of victory right before she started to gnaw on it, using her gums and her two teeth and making gleeful noises of approval. 

"Oh, you wanted real people food, alrighty then." 

She promptly fainted. Merlin may have slowed and directed the fall. The baby pulled herself up using the bars of her baby jail cell, and squalled in concern before taking another bite of her biscuit. 

Hunith was a gentle soul, but with a sensible mind. Before this she had never paid much attention to nonsense such as magic and mysticism or psychics and psychology. After this, however, her mind turned to such ideas. There were many theories that she conjured up, but, ultimately, she dismissed it. 

Emrys Merlin was something else, something wonderous, something strange, but she was still just a baby and human (or half human anyway). She needed to be cuddled and nursed, needed to be burped and needed her nappies changed, and, above all, she needed to be loved, and Hunith could do that. 

Merlin grew up, she was intelligent, happy, brave, brimming with hope and magic, but, most of all, she was good. A kindness and beautiful heart shined from within her. 

The Dempsie family was a Godsend. They were the neighboring farm that Hunith had limped to with her newborn daughter in her arms. Mrs. Dempsie and her baby, William, her husband was lost in the Great War was she was pregnant. Hunith needed Mrs. Lowri Dempsie. Lowri brought in her family doctor to treat Hunith and baby Emrys. Lowri insisted that Hunith stay with her for the first few days as she recovered. Lowri taught her to nurse, how to get the baby latched, how to hold the baby. The clothes that baby Will had outgrown were given to Merlin, along with receiving blankets and other various baby items. Hunith liked to believe that just as she needed Lowri, that the young widowed mother needed her in turn, if only for the comfort of her company.

Merlin grew up with Will as if he was her brother. She wore his hand-me-downs, and didn't complain at all about wearing patches up boy clothes. The girl had the grace of a newborn horse. Her and Will would run around and play, the clumsy, uncoordinated Merlin would crash to the ground often, followed by her calling out, "I'm alright!" 

The little school house offered a paltry amount of friends for Merlin to choose from. If Merlin could choose, she would be friends with everyone. Unfortunately, Merlin was, at best, overlooked and, at worse, ridiculed. But she had her mom and she had Will.

Her mother taught her to keep her powers secret. Sometimes that made her feel special, but usually it just made her feel alone. However, Merlin had this unyielding hope that something wondrous was awaiting her.

No one, no matter how great, can know their destiny. This child could not glimpse her part in the great story that is about to unfold. Like everyone, she must live and learn. And so it will be for the young wizard who would soon be arriving at the gates of the Wizarding Kingdom of Camelot. A girl that will, in time, will create a new legend.


	3. The Chosen One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Young Prince Arthur receives his letter...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am re-watching Merlin and I was inspired. This will be a bit of a re-imagining of episode 1, though hopefully done in an original way. Arthur-centric, my author note from the last chapter was full of lies.

The King Arthur of legend is often compared to the sun. If this Prince Arthur was like that Arthur (which he was, since they are the same person in a sense), then he was comparable to the sun as well. And if Arthur was the sun, Uther was currently a dark and stormy night. 

He stomped around the palace, body tense and words sharp as swords. Arthur was that most magical age of 11 and it was late June. A little part of Arthur hoped that his father was upset about his upcoming entrance to Hogwarts. That his father's blackened mood was due to the thought of his son leaving him. But a much bigger part of him knew that something else was going on, that something else had his father upset.

If Arthur was at present the sun and Uther a stormy night, then eight-but-almost-nine year old Morgan was a puffy, huffy grey cloud floating through Arthur's bright sky. Unlike his father, Arthur knew what Morgan was upset about. He was sad because Arthur would be receiving his Hogwarts letter soon and would subsequently be leaving. 

"Would Master Morgan Corvus Pendragon, formerly named Master Morgan Corvus Black, please-just-call-me-Morgan, like some more sugar and cream in his tea?" Tickety-Boo asked, bowing over and over as he spoke, like some strange dance.

Morgan sighed, "Not this morning, Tickety-Boo." 

"Yes, Tickety-Boo," Arthur sneered, "he wants the tea to be bitter and dark, like his heart." 

Tickety-Boo, always a dramatic little chap, flung himself to his knees by Arthur's feet, "Master Prince Arthur Tickety-Boo-Doesn't-know-his-middle-name Pendragon, highness sire. Please, Tickety-Boo begs, don't say such things about please-just-call-me-Morgan! It makes Master Morgan Corvus Pendragon please-just-call-me-Morgan sad. And when his master is sad, Tickety-Boo is sad." 

Arthur snorted, "It was just a joke, Tickety-Boo." 

Tickety-Boo sprung up to his feet, "Oh a joke. Tickety-Boo likes jokes," Tickety-Boo laughed, a cute squeaky noise. "Even though Tickety-Boo does not understand much jokes. But jokes are happy and Tickety-Boo likes happy!" 

"I like happy too, Tickety-Boo," Arthur replied. "Is that a new toga thing?"

Tickety-Boo preened, "Prince Arthur Pendragon, his highness, noticed! Tickety-Boo made it himself out of the lace dollies that Head Chef Audrey threw out." Then little house elf slumped down, shoulders raised, chin to his chest, giant ears flat to his head, "Tickety-Boo thought that taking it out of the bin was alright, but he feels guilty about it." 

"Nonsense, if it was in the bin, it's okay." 

Tickety-Boo's ears perked up, "Oh thank you, thank you Prince Arthur Tickety-Boo-doesn't-know-his-middle-name Pendragon, prince sire highness sir!"

Arthur couldn't help the fond smile that came to his face. 

"Speaking of bitter and dark," Morgan intercepted the conversation, "what do you suppose has your father in such a state?" 

Arthur donned the armor of arrogance, "Just dreading being separated from his beloved son soon." 

Morgan glared. 

"I don't know, Morgan. He's the King of Camelot, the High King of the Magical Five Kingdoms, I am sure he has many kingly things to worry over."

Arching his eyebrow, Morgan was the perfect picture of patronizing, "Kingly thing?"

"Yes. Kingly things. Politics and ancient rituals, trade agreements, taxes, werewolves, blah, blah, blah."

"Blah, blah, blah?" Morgan recited, prim and proper. 

"Yep."

"I do so look forward to seeing your reign as king." 

Arthur heard a rustling sound and looked up to see Artemisia, Gaius's personal owl, flying in. Artemisia was a lesser-sooty owl, Gaius had rescued it as an egg from a shady potion ingredient merchant. Lesser-sooty owls are from Australia, but Arthur always thought the term "lesser" never suited the majestic bird of prey. Artemisia was related to barn owls, had that same wise looking moon face, but instead of brown and golden, Artemisia had a charcoal grey feather hooded cloak and a silver feathered face. The dark, soulful eyes that stared unblinkingly at Arthur always made him feel uncomfortable. 

"Hey there girl," Morgan cooed, holding out a piece of sausage. Artemisia's head turned, in that creepy owlish way. After inspecting the offering and deeming it of worth, the owl snapped it out of Morgan's fingers. Morgan's hand recoiled and he released a nervous laugh. 

Nervous or not, the laughter made Arthur miss his happy brother. The brooding brother bit was wearying. 

Arthur knew what the letter strapped to the owl's leg was, what it meant. 

"I'll talk to father about it. The Hogwarts castle is a short boat trip away. I'll arrange to come home on the weekends. The giant squid is used to ferrying me around as is. I daresay that ol' kraken would miss me and miss draggin' me about in my boat if I only called on his services a couple times a year." 

"Yes, he probably enjoys taking you on walkies, as if you were his little puppy. Perhaps you could attend classes and return home as you normally do," Morgan suggested, playing with his ponytail in a nervous manner. His attempt at being nonchalant, at masking his hopefulness, was poorly executed. 

"You are going to have to cut your hair some time in the next two years," Arthur told him, "being such a pretty boy with such long hair, everyone will think you are a girl." 

Morgan made a face, "It is traditional for wizards to have long hair. Especially amongst high ranking pureblood families. The Black family abided by those traditions. Long hair in youth and then to sport long hair with an accompanying long beard in one's old age. The length of hair, and beards, are meant to reflect your magical ability. Your father goes on and on about the importance of tradition and legacy, yet has barely there hair." 

At that Arthur gave Morgan a significant look, "I think my father would be quite embarrassed to hear you mentioning his balding problem."

Morgan shrugged, "If hair length correlates to magical powers, his power is sparse."

Arthur's mouth opened and he stared at Morgan, before looking about, and lowering his head and voice, "Such talk is treasonous." 

"My hair is nearly to my waist. You have to get your golden halo of hair trimmed every few weeks, else it turns into a mane. Merlin the Great's beard practically touched his toes."

"Stop talking like that," Arthur hissed, "We have the advantage of youth. Merlin was Merlin. And the pictures of Merlin in his youth showed him with very short, messy black hair." 

"Merlin was Merlin, he could probably control his magic at will." 

"Willful, wild, accidental magics are all heavily monitored and regulated. Intentional and practiced magic is the safest and most secure magic." 

"Willful and intentional are synonyms," Morgan argued, Arthur sighed. Morgan looked at his friend, his brother, "I apologize. Just trying to get a rise out of you. Now, stop stalling by bickering with me. As you always say, 'Shut up.' You have a letter to open." 

Arthur leveled a look at Artemisia, who had taken it upon herself to snatch up some hard boiled eggs from the silver serving tray, he muttered, "Cannibal," before saying, "come here pretty birdy."

The owl looked insulted, as though being called pretty instead of beautiful was an affront. But she hopped along the dining table and offered up her foot. 

He took the letter off, but hesitated, "Shouldn't I go to father and open it with him present?"

"The king has 'kingly things' to attend to," Morgan quoted him yet again, tone as bitter as his tea. Arthur's tea was half cream and half sugar. Ignoring Arthur's short, Morgan soldiered on, "Plus, you should make sure that you are actually accepted first. Would be quite the embarrassment if you proudly presented your father with a rejection letter."

Arthur looked at the letter. 

Arthur Pendragon  
Prince's Royal Chambers  
West Wing  
Pendragon Palace  
Camelot Castle  
Wizarding Kingdom of Camelot  
Magical World of Albion

Drier than the hogwort plant's natural habitat, Arthur commented, "I am surprised that they can fit that pretentious address on the front of the envelope. "

Morgan muttered, "That's the pot calling the cauldron black."

Benevolently, Arthur ignored that comment. He pulled the pen knife out of his boot and Morgan huffed with judgment. The prince slid the blade carefully under the Hogwarts wax seal, the crimson H, and opened the letter. Upon seeing the word 'pleased," Arthur was filled with joy. Unbridled joy. It felt like when he was flying on a broom. Exhilarating. 

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WIZARDRY  
Headmaster: Gaius  
(Order of Merlin, Third Class, International Confederacy of Wizards, St. Mungo's Bone and Wand Society)

Dear Prince Pendragon,  
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all books equipment.  
Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.  
Yours sincerely,

Helen Mora

Deputy Headmistresses

Even though he knew what it would say, though he knew it was coming, he was overwhelmed by a sense of disbelief. Being a prince, being future king, being a wizard, etcetera, etcetera, all that was all well and good. But getting to go to Hogwarts? That was too good to be true.

Morgan spoke, "Congratulations. You should go tell your father." 

Arthur nodded and stumbled up. He somehow managed to make it to his father's study. But his father wasn't there. Luckily, his father's house elf, Gubbins, was loitering about the study. Gubbins was tall and broad for a house elf, undoubtedly why he had garnered the position of house elf to the king. He had a feather duster that was floating up high to get at the top of the bookshelves. 

Arthur cleared his throat, but Gubbins did not pay him any heed. 

"Good day, Gubbins."

The feather duster fell to the ground. Gubbins covered his head, cowering, "Prince Master Arthur Pendragon, good day, good day, good day your highness. "

"Where is my father?"

Gubbins whimpered, "King Master King Uther Pendragon sire, is not here. Gubbins is not bothering him, Gubbins is not to bother his King Master. He made sure that Master King wasn't here before coming in to clean."

"Do you know where he is?" 

"Gubbins believes King Uther Pendragon sire Master is at the assembly hall. Oh, my poor Master. He is so upset." 

"Thank you, Grubbins," Arthur rushed off before the house elf could continue his groveling. 

The assembly hall was in a building outside of the palace, near the front. Standing outside grand doors to the assembly hall, Arthur paused. Getting his Hogwarts letter was a big deal, perhaps the biggest thing to happen to him. As he stood before the halls, hearing the raised voices, he suddenly began to suspect that this was not important enough, or at least not urgent enough, to interrupt a royal council meeting. 

The dark burl wood doors were intricately designed. Each door was a magnificent dragon wing, and above the doorway was a protruding dragon head, made of the same wood. The eyes of the dragon were red stained glass, and the flames surrounding it were stained glass panels in an array of yellows, oranges and reds.

He soon found himself sitting on the steps, looking around the palace. 

The Camelot Castle was beautiful. The central structure was the Pendragon Palace, but the Camelot Castle was made up of many buildings. Golden white stone, with dark spires and roofing. It did not invoke the same awe in his magical soul as the sight of Hogwarts. The grey stone, towering castle of the magic school was something else, something other. Or perhaps it was just that he was used to his home, that he had grown immune to the beauty and grandeur. 

He waited, lost, time passed. The doors groaned open, and Arthur watched as a select few of his father's magical royal council came out, huddled together and muttering. The same air of exasperation that had been clinging to his father clung to these men. They ignored him, uncommon but not unheard of, but one cast him a pitying look. 

Arthur leapt to his feet, holding the letter in his hands reverently. He walked in, unusually tentative. 

"What is it?" Uther growled. 

"I-" Arthur started, suddenly regretting that he had not taken the opportunity to rehearse his delivery. He managed to say, "I have received my Hogwarts letter.

"No son of mine will step foot in Hogwarts with those dirty mudbloods," Uther bellowed. 

Shock crashed over him, but so did another force. His father's magic pushed him down, knocking Arthur to the hard marble ground. He tried to catch himself, landing on his arm. Then a sickening crunch. 

He gasped as the hot pain coursed through his arm, but his father's eyes showed no mercy, no comprehension. 

"No son of mine will be tainted, corrupted, by that filth," Uther grabbed the precious letter from Arthur's broken arm and tore it into pieces, "Get out!" 

Arthur fumbled up, releasing a yelp of pain as he jostled his arm, and ran out of the door.

He ran to the front door of the palace, but he was unable to open it. He kicked at the door while screaming. So suddenly the door opened, that Arthur almost kicked Tickety-Boo in the face. 

The house elf ears fell, "Oh, Master Prince Arthur, poor, poor, poor highness. Ow, ow, ow. Come in, come in. I will get Headmaster Healer Gaius."

Tickety-Boo guided him to the fainting couch. Arthur was in too much pain to argue, but he registered a little spark of embarrassment in the back of his mind. 

The house elf separated in a blink of an eye. A few minutes of excruciating pain passed, Morgan ran in. 

"Arthur," he cried out. Arthur would have taunted his brother for his melodrama, if he could speak without crying. He closed his eyes to try to hide his tears. 

Morgan placed his hands upon Arthur's arm, causing him to recoil. 

Morgan shushed him, a calming sound. With the most tender care, Morgan laid his fingers on the broken arm. Arthur opened his eyes to look at what was happening. With a whisper, Morgan's eyes flared amber, and the pain searing throughhArthur's arm receded. 

Arthur managed to catch his breath, but his eyes flew to Morgan. Such underaged magic was prohibited. The pain was still there, boy was it ever still there, but it was bearable. 

"Thanks," his voice was stripped, raw.

Morgan's smile was tight, "I thought that you were going to give me a lecture on illegal magic." 

"I was getting there," Arthur gritted out. "Underaged, untrained magic is dangerous and illegal."

Morgan shrugged, "I am educated. Professor Nimuah Rosier has taught me the theory of many incantations. Fortunately this one worked."

"Wandless magic is unlawful as well! Without the direction that a wand allows, magical releases are wild, unpredictable."

Morgan took his hands off, a flare of pain, "Sounds like the words of a man who does not have the control or ability to master wandless magic."

Footsteps, Arthur glanced over, afraid on his friend's behalf. It was just Tickety-Boo followed by Gaius. 

"How did you get here so fast?"

Gaius did not answer, instead getting down to the business of healing, "Take this potion." 

Arthur downed it, making a very undignified and quite amusing face, "Oh, I think I am going to throw up." 

Morgan spoke up, "Please refrain from doing so."

"Tickety-Boo will get a bucket," Tickety-Boo proclaimed, preening with pride at perceiving himself as helpful, before apparating away. 

"Wow, this is some good pain killer. I think that I-" Arthur passed out, slumping back on the fainting couch as he fainted. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He awoke, feeling fuzzy, the bed was friendly. His pillow was a cloud. Arthur barely managed to open his eyes. 

"Hi dadda," Arthur, his eyes half open, face slack, body melted into the bed, and his voice slurred, but he knew the foggy figure in front of him was his father. Because of the balding. 

"Arthur," his father's voice was gentle but firm, "I am glad you are awake." 

"It's a broken arm, not a broken head," Arthur was aiming for comforting and nonchalant, but sounded so out of it that it was just pathetic. If he had the muscular ability in his face to grimace with disgrace he would do so. His attempt failed and he released a raspy groan. 

"Shattered arm," Uther corrected. "Gaius fixed you right up." Uther spat the name Gaius. It was as though the word tasted as bad as the vile potion that Arthur had choked down. 

Arthur tried to nod but was pretty sure that he did not manage it. 

The silence was heavy, stifling, suffocating. 

"I never had a doubt that you would be accepted to Hogwarts. I always saw it in you." 

"Do I really not get to go to Hogwarts?" Arthur wondered who had asked that, but realized that he recognized that it was his voice. He tried to figure out how to remedy it, but his groggy brain did not supply an answer.

"While you slept, I had a meeting with Gaius. Compromises were made, a deal was struck. You will be able to attend Hogwarts." 

The relief those words brought was overwhelming. Better than the pain relieving potion. Okay, so maybe not better, but equivalent. 

"Thank you."

"For ten years I have succeeded in ensuring Camelot's safety from the outside world. I have protected us from Muggles and from Dark Magical Creatures. But my work, my plans, all that I have done, I can see them starting to unravel. I will continue my crusade, but you are the future. There will be battles I start that will be up to you to finish." 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a bit over a month later when a handful of children his age showed up at the castle, wide eyed and full of wonder and full of fear. 

Muggleborn and some half bloods, staying in the barracks in the back of the castle. It was to be a crash course to the Magical World of Albion and the Wizarding Kingdom of Camelot, where they had rules, etiquette, knowledge and secrets crammed into them. 

If they passed, they got to go to Hogwart. 

If they failed, they got oblivated and returned home.

Uther sentenced Arthur and Morgan to their wing, not allowed to leave for the two weeks that the gateway class was going on. But the two still peeked out the window to see the students. 

"They don't look so scary," Morgan muttered. "Those kids look more scared than scary."

"Untrained, uncontrolled, accidental, wild, underaged magic is a threat."

Morgan looked at Arthur, "If untrained magic is so worrisome, why is your father fighting against educating muggleborns?" 

"To protect us from Muggles. You and your governess have been accompanying me with my tutoring sessions with Sir Geoffrey Monmouth. My father's adviser's history classes have made no impact on you, have they? The magic Purge of our ancestral Camelot? The witch trials that killed up to a possible hundred thousand people, Muggle and magical?" 

Morgan looked away. 

Arthur asked, "See?"

Morgan's voice was just a whisper, so faint that Arthur was not sure if he was meant to hear it, "Yes, I see. But I see them too." He stared out the window and Arthur followed his gaze. 

There was a girl with an abundance of curly dark hair and tawny skin that Arthur could swear saw them. He ducked away from the window. 

Morgan snorted, "They don't have basilisk eyes, a muggleborn seeing you isn't going to kill you."

"She didn't see me, did she?" Arthur asked, trying to keep the panic out of his tone and rubbing his newly mended arm. 

"Coward." 

Arthur and Morgan continued to spy on Arthur's future classmates. By the time their class was over, a third of them were sent home. Arthur was banned from the procedure, but he could hear the kids screaming and crying. He could not imagine losing this, losing all memory of magic. If his father had a way of stripping a person of their magic, like dementors pulling out souls, he knew that his father would just steal all of the children's magic. But as it stood, he could only steal their memories.

The sounds of their cries echoed in his mind, ricocheting around his skull. It dulled his enthusiasm for preparing for Hogwarts. 

The fact that it was only one of his father's knights escorting him instead of his father also stung. Uther had explained that with the school year approaching, the Wizengamot and the Hogwarts professors were hard at work finalizing details on the integration of muggleborn students. Arthur knew the utter importance of Hogwarts to the Wizarding Kingdom of Camelot and to the Magical World of Albion, but a snide voice in his mind wondered why the High King would be so involved with a school. But Hogwarts represented the future of Albion and Arthur knew that. 

However, the way his father had waved him off when he had asked about going to Diagon Alley together made the eleven and a half year old boy suspect that his father had never planned on coming with him at all. 

The knight was a stand in, and though he had the scowl and belittling disposition of Uther almost perfected, it wasn't the same. Arthur had begged Uther to let Morgan come. At first Uther was understanding while being adamant that two royals in such a busy place, at such a busy time, was inadvisable. Then he got angry. In Uther's version of a compromise, he gave Arthur the use of Tickety-Boo on the trip. 

Technically, Arthur had his own house elf. His mother's personal elf was an ancient female elf who had been gifted to him at the occasion of his mother's death and his birth. Her name was Thimble and she had apparently been quite important in Arthur's babyhood. Though fond of the wizened elf, she was unofficially retired. She hung around the house elf living quarters and the other house elves took care of her. 

Though Arthur would hate to admit it, he was thankful for Tickety-Boo's presence. Though perhaps a bit annoying, the incessant chattering of the young house elf offered at least a little distraction from Arthur's bad mood.

But as he walked into Ollivander's Wand Shop, he cheered up. A wand, his wand. 

It was strangely empty. It smelled of wood and oil and had a welcoming, if not a touch unsettling, atmosphere. 

An old man sat in a cushioned chair, white hair obscuring his face. Arthur strained to see if the elderly gent was breathing and he whispered, "He isn't dead, is he?" 

"No."

Arthur jumped at this unknown voice. He turned and saw a boy. He was only a few years older than him, perhaps 14 or 15. He had wavy pale blonde hair that stuck straight up. He had a Ravenclaw eagle emblem emblazoned on his vest. He cocked his head, like an owl. 

"My august grandfather merely sleeps," the youth's eyes are unnerving, a pale, silverish blue. His voice had an unusual cadence, "You must be in need of my father." 

The boy disappeared through a little door behind the counter that he had not noticed before. Arthur wondered if he was a ghost. 

A man emerged, grey hair and the same eerie eyes, but seemed human, more grounded. He smiled, "You must be Prince Arthur." 

"How did you know that?" Arthur asked, awe-struck.

The man quirked his eyebrows, "You wear the Royal Pendragon Crest."

Arthur looked down at his robe and felt his face burning with embarrassment.

"Your guard was another tell," the man confided. "I guessed who you are, but I bet you can guess who I am as well?" 

Arthur cleared his throat before offering up, "Mister Ollivander?" 

"Huh?" The old man in the chair asked, startled in his waking.

"Nothing Da, go back to sleep." 

The Old Mister Ollivander needn't be told twice, closing his silver blue eyes, he promptly fell back asleep. 

"Now let me see," the Middle Aged Mister Ollivander murmured to himself as he looked at something Arthur could not see behind the counter. 

Hefting a giant old tome, he dropped it on the counter with an unceremonious thud. 

"Uther Pendragon, would have been around the late 1870s," he intoned as he carefully turned the pages. He hummed softly. Arthur fidgeted. "Ah, here it is. Prince Uther Pendragon, dark cedar polished wood, unicorn hair core, 13 inches, unyielding." 

Arthur snorted at that and a mischievous smirk flickered across his face.

The man walked by the shelves of boxes wands, and stopped, "Alright," he removed a box from a low shelf, and opened it, "yes, here we go." 

He held the open box out, presenting it to Arthur, "Elm wood, unicorn hair, 12 and a quarter inch long. Rigid. With a unicorn hair core." 

Arthur took it. A pause. "What now?"

"Well, go on, give it a wave," Middle Aged Mister Ollivander prompted. 

Tickety-Boo squeaked, "This is terribly, terribly exciting."

He waved it and… nothing. Nothing happened. He frowned. He gave it a shake.

"No, no, no. I said give it a wave, be gentle with the merchandise, hand it here."

Arthur sheepishly placed it back in the velvet lined box. 

"Hmm," Middle Aged Mister Ollivander's thoughtful hmming turned into a melodic humming as he looked about. 

"Cedar, 11 and a half inches, dragon heartstring core, stiff."

Arthur waved it, without prompting this time. Though he dropped it when it burnt his fingers."

Ollivander sighed, running his hand through his wild hair. He looked behind the counter again and pulled out yet another book.

"Ygraine Malfoy, would have been around… 1895, got it. Ah, apple wood, delightful people apple woods, really… Apple wood, dragon heartstring, 9 and ¾ inches, ha how adorable. Swishy."

The man muttered to himself as he went about searching for another wand. Arthur was starting to get nervous. If the wand selected the wizard, and no wand was willing to choose him, how could he go to Hogwarts? 

"Try this," Ollivander said while thrusting a stick in his hand, "apple wood, 10 and a half inches, slightly springy, with a dragon heartstring core."

Arthur waved it and some copper sparks came out. Joy filled him, "Is this my wand?"

Ollivander sighed, "No, no, no, closer, but no… hmm."

"Father?"

Arthur jumped. Phantom boy had reappeared. He really did not look old enough to apparate. 

"What son?" Grumbled the sleeping man

"Not you, da, me da," the Middle Aged Ollivander called out to his father, the Elder Ollivander. He turned to his son, "Yes, Garrick?"

"May I try?" The Boy Ollivander asked. 

His dad smiled, a fond look in his foggy eyes, "Sure son." 

The boy walked to him and stared into Arthur's eyes. Arthur tried to hold his gaze, but found himself having to look away. He wondered if this young man had the gift of occlumency or legilimency or whatever it was called. 

Boy Ollivander, Garrick, walked back into the back. The back must have had some enlargement charm on it. 

Arthur looked at the Middle Aged Mister Ollivander, "What happens if I don't get a wand?"

The man laughed, Oh, don't worry, princeling, that…" he trailed off before getting a concerned look on his face, "...almost never happens." 

Garrick Ollivander came out, holding a box. The box was bigger than the other boxes. clearly an antique and had some sort of intricate engraving upon it. His father gasped, "Could it be?"

Arthur was a little amused by the dramatics, but mostly just fascinated. The boy opened the box and Arthur looked inside.

In the box was a wand. It had a gold colored wood base like a hilt of a sword, a spiraling design encrusted with little garnet and red agate stones. At the bottom of the base, was a brass cage containing a sizable garnet stone. 

The top looked golden, but he could tell that it was wood. There were two engraved vines twirled and twisted around it.

"This is rowan wood, with garnets for protection and reunification. 14 inches, hard but reasonably supple."

Even though the wand called out to him, singing to him, he withdrew, "What the bloody 'ell is that?"

"Prince Arthur," the knight piped up for the first time, reprimanding him for his foul language. 

"This is Excalibur." 

"Like the sword?" Arthur didn't sound convinced.

The Middle Aged Mister Ollivander spoke up, "It is not the official title, just a nickname us Ollivanders gave it long ago." 

Arthur raised his eyebrows, "How long ago?"

Mister Ollivander shrugged, "A few centuries."

"Since at least the 1500s," Garrick added.

Arthur's mouth fell open, once he regained his composure he asked, "Why is it called Excalibur?" 

Middle Aged Mister Ollivander chimed in with a chuckle, "It is just an old family rumor-"

But Garrick cut off his dad, "It is the wand of King Arthur Pendragon." 

This felt unreal. 

Garrick continued, "This is a singular wand, centuries old. Each generation of Ollivander has kept it safe. It is made of rowan wood, the most protective of all wand woods. It is commonly stated that no dark witch or wizard ever owned a rowan wand, it is for the pure of heart."

The boy seemed to be taking a significant pause in his spiel for theatrical effect. Arthur did not respect the boy's timing, "Let me guess, dragon heartstring core?"

His eyes shined, "And phoenix feather."

Arthur took a step closer and leaned forward to look at it, "Two cores? I have never heard of such a thing." 

"Soul mate magic, two hearts, one body."

Arthur sputtered, "Soul mate? Guinevere cheated on him with that right prick Lancelot!" 

"Are you brave enough to take a chance?" The boy's words were taunting but his tone truthful. 

Arthur reached out and grabbed hold of it. Picking up the wand, he felt as if he just victoriously claimed the sword from the stone. A fiery light wrapped around him and filled him with this indescribable feeling. 

"Wow," Arthur breathed out.

The Middle Aged Mister Ollivander grabbed a big, newer book, opened it up and started scribbling with rapid motions and talking gleefully.

After thanking the Ollivander men, which included a very awkward moment for Arthur when the Eldest Ollivander wept with joy, he departed the shop. He held the chest that contained his wand close to his heart. 

He was so excited to tell his father. But upon seeing Uther's face, harsh with stress, that excitement dissipated. Suddenly, he wanted to keep it secret, a special secret for him. The idea of two cores, of soul mate magic, was too difficult, too intimidating, for Arthur to understand at this point. But receiving the legendary wand of King Arthur? That was what he was fixated on. 

Though he planned on telling no one, he confided in Morgan. Well, accidentally confided in.

The last few days of summer passed in a blur. Uther denied Arthur's request to ride on the train. He had accompanied his father to the sorting a handful of times, being one of the most important days in Camelot. Uther was insisting that Arthur go with him and his royal party, only to depart when his name was called. Arthur was very careful with his defense. 

"There I would be, sitting at the head table, with the Headmaster of Hogwarts and the King of Camelot. I understand that it is important that my peers look up to me with respect. But the image that me being by your side creates, that would cause the students to look down on me. I believe that they would attribute any success I have to favoritism." 

Uther had heard various versions of this, and, finally and surprisingly, he relented. Arthur was not allowed to go to King's Cross Station or to ride the train. But his father would allow him to go to Camelot's Train Station and board the boats with his fellow first years. 

He was able to slip into the stream of children with no hassle, the sunset cloaking him in shadows. They made their way to the Lake, the inky water dark and deep. The first years got onto the boats, and Arthur joined one. So to did the muggleborn girl he had spotted at the palace. He regarded her with suspicion, and she met his callous gaze with a soft and sincere smile. 

The boat rocked as the squid grabbed ahold of it to drag them across the lake. 

This startled the girl, almost knocking her over. Arthur reached out and steadied her. In the dark of the night, with only the light of the lanterns to see by, he could not see her blush but could hear it in her voice as she said, "Thank you." 

He removed his hand, sat upright, and said, "Of course." 

"What's your name?" She asked in a friendly manner.

After a second to think he gave her, "Arthur." Purposeful in excluding his surname.

"I'm Gwen. Gwendolyn Smith."

He nodded and replied, "It is nice to make your acquaintance." 

He could hear her smile, the smack of her lips, "Do you know about the houses?"

Arthur was a little affronted. She was the Muggleborn, he was the Pureblood, "Of course I do. I am from a Wizarding family"

"Oh," her voice was little and she stopped talking.

He closed his eyes, clearly he had been too harsh, so he managed to ask, "What house do you believe you will be sorted into?"

"Oh, I am not sure, but I am so excited to see! Maybe Hufflepuff, oh or perhaps Gryffindor! What about you, what house do you want to be in?"

Arthur opened his mouth and closed it. What house did he want to be in? He knew, of course, what house his father wanted him to be in. But he had never thought about what house he would choose. He reached into the pocket of his robe and grasped the hilt of his wand, seeking comfort, "I am not sure."

He looked upon the towering silhouette of the Hogwarts Castle upon a star splattered sunset sky. Arthur never fancied himself the poetic type, but it was as if he was getting a glimpse of his destiny.


	4. ...and the Other Chosen One?...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Owl, the Letter and the Wizard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to Promise2460 for commenting! And thank you all for reading, please comment.
> 
> I am looking for a beta reader. Any volunteers or advice on how to find one?

1926

Hunith had spent the day throwing herself into her work. She washed and mended clothing for villagers. Over time her little business that Lowri Dempsie and her ran became a bit dependent on their work being magically done. Lowri had no idea how Hunith was able to accomplish so much and worried that her friend worked too hard. But Hunith knew the truth. Her little Emmy Bird used her… magic? Psychic powers? to finish her mother's tasks. 

Holes in trousers mended without a visible seam, stains that would be impossible to remove removed, hems sewn, dresses let out, and on and on. Hunith at first was hesitant to accept help, she was the mom, she should be caring for Merlin, not the other way round. But the amount of work called for to make any money was too much for Hunith to do. She had a child to raise, a family farm to run, and had to make money. The little farm put eggs on the table and watercress in her soup, but the farm was not enough to equip them with all their needs. She did not make enough at the farmer's market to get by. 

Lowri and her started a laundry washing and tailoring business when Will andMerlin had still been in nappies. They did a variety of odd jobs. Occasionally they worked as maids or dressmakers, and once in a while they were called upon to cater at a wedding ceremony or something like that. Any legitimate thing that they could do to make money. 

Hunith knew that the only reason why the Merlin family and Dempsie family were able to make ends meet was because of the work that Merlin did. 

One time Hunith was hired to make a wedding dress. But the amount of money offered was not enough to even pay for the fabric of the gown. Hunith had spent more than the down payment she was given on a bit of fabric. She had enjoyed the artistry of designing the dress, but there was no way she would be able to accomplish it. 

She cried herself to sleep, Emrys holding her and comforting her. For not only was she afraid of having to figure out how to refund the money but also worried about ruining some young girl's happy day.

When she awoke, Merlin was sleeping by her in their bed. It was early so Hunith was careful as she untangled herself from her daughter and snuck out of bed. Going to the living room, which had been taken over by her business, she was amazed to see the most beautiful dress she had ever seen. Gold and silver lace that shined, adorned with pearls and crystals, it was so lovely. 

"Do you like it?"

Hunith turned to her daughter. Merlin was in her baggy striped pajamas, courtesy of Will's recent growth spurt. Her short black hair was a mess and she was rubbing at her sleepy eyes.

"It's- it's the most wonderful dress that has ever been created. How did you make it?"

Merlin smiled, a smile so big it his her eyes and so sincere it made Hunith's heart ache with love, "You want to know? Really?" 

Her voice was so full of joy. Hunith largely ignored Merlin's abilities because they made her confused and uncomfortable. And Hunith knew that Merlin knew that she loved her, but she suspected that Merlin also knew that Hunith would not have chosen this path for her daughter if she had been given the choice. The way that Merlin shined when her ability got this little bit of praise from her mother made Hunith ashamed of herself. 

"Yes."

Merlin walked over to the dress, "You didn't have enough fabric, so I took newspapers and turned them into the nice fabric for under the dress bit. I collected leaves and flowers and turned them into the lace. Pebbles got turned into pearls. I did break an old jam jar to make the crystal beads. Sorry about that," Merlin looked down at her feet sheepishly.

"Oh Merlin," Hunith sighed, "don't apologize. You did an amazing thing. Thank you. It is the most beautiful dress"

She went over and hugged her daughter, the girl felt so slight and frail, and it was startling that one do small contained such big powers.

"It is only so beautiful because I made it look like your drawing. You are a great artist," Merlin yawned and had snuggled into her mom. "It was fun making it, but it was a lot of work. Since it is Saturday and I don't have school, could I please go back to sleep?" 

Hunith, who had at some point started crying, released a little laughing sob, "Of course, my dear heart. I love you so, my precious girl." 

As Merlin made her way to the stairs, Hunith called out, "Why do you wear Will's old hand-me-downs if you are able to make clothes like this." 

Merlin replied, "Well, I like his hand-me-downs."

Hunith looked at the dress for a long time. Regrets about never getting to wear one, of never marrying, floated in her mind. Perhaps she would find love again, but knew that any romantic love she found would surely pale to what she had experienced with Balinor Ambrose Merlin. Emrys Rose Merlin was a reminder of that love. 

Her mind had turned back to Merlin. 

Her fears about finding love were nothing compared to the fears that she had on her daughter's behalf. She often found herself mourning for Merlin. How was Merlin going to make friends and find love when she was so different?

Merlin had only Will as a friend. When she was five and six, Will was her only true friend, but she had other playmates. Merlin had carried her blankie, a worn old red thing, to school. She came home one day, big fat tears cascaded down her face. Her playmates had made fun of her because of the blanket. Hunith suspects that was the beginning of the end. After a lengthy conversation, Hunith took the red rag and made alterations to it, and Merlin somehow made it look newer. It became a scarf, and Merlin wore it nearly all the time. The playmates moved on from mocking the blankie to mocking her boyish clothes and night ears.

Now, at the ripe old age of 10, all of the children her age either ignored her or persecuted her, but only Will played with her. Merlin was odd, with her odd name and wearing boy clothes, her too short hair, her too big ears, and being too loud and too bright and too friendly and too clumsy and too talkative and too much. A piece of Hunith was thankful for this shield. Merlin's oddities and otherness kept people away, kept people from knowing the truth. 

Will knew the truth and accepted Merlin still, keeping her secret safe, not so much as telling his own mother. Hunith at times found herself hoping that their friendship would eventually turn into love. But the way they acted, so much like siblings, made her doubt such an outcome.

On this day, Hunith's dedicated and frantic work was to try to keep her heartbreaking thoughts at bay. For after Merlin got home from school, Hunith was going to have to tell her that Will and his mother would be moving in the summer. 

Lowri had a long standing correspondence with her late husband's best friend. They had been penpals since her husband passed. He had been offered a promotion to deputy Headmaster at a prestigious boys private college in Australia. It was the brother school to the college he currently worked at. He had asked Lowri to marry him and move to Australia with him and she had said yes.

Hunith was nursing her own sadness concerning this, that her closest friend, as well as her business partner, was leaving. She also loved Will as a nephew and would miss him. But mostly she hurt for her daughter. 

The door slammed open and slammed shut. Hunith looked out the window, it was a drizzly spring day, but it was not windy. Merlin was scrawny but had wiry muscles from all of her play, but the way the house shook and reverberated at the slam indicate that she used her abilities. 

Hunith had concluded her daughter was upset, but was not prepared for what she was about to see. 

A red bruise bloomed across her left cheekbone and eye, her eye was bloody, and her neck was pink and swollen. 

Hunith gasped, "Oh baby, what happened?" 

The little girl trembled, "Is it true? Is Will moving?"

"Honey, Will didn't do this to you, did he?" 

Merlin shook her head, "Of course not… another boy at school did. A group of pratts came to us when we were coming home. They were saying that they were happy that Will was leaving and telling us how much easier it will be to attack me when I am on my own. Will and I argued back, Will telling them that they better leave me alone. Then we fought."

"Oh, my poor girl. Boys did this to you, even though you are a girl?"

Merlin nodded, "Will asked them didn't their dads ever teach them to not hit girls. They said I wasn't a proper girl, with my boy clothes and stuff. Then they made fun of us for not having dads." 

Hunith hugged her gently, Merlin was careful to put the unbruised side of her face into her mother's chest. 

"Is Will alright?" Hunith whispered as she kissed her daughter's hair. 

"Yeah, considering. I managed to heal his broken nose, he said that it even took the pain away." 

Hunith pulled back to inspect her daughter's face, "Can you heal yourself?" 

Merlin looked down, "No, I tried, and have tried before, but it never works on myself."

"Let's go put some cool water on it."

Merlin "Thanks" was barely audible.

"What happened to stop the fight? Did you two run away or did an adult step in or-" 

Merlin's little body started trembling and the sobbing was instantaneous, "I'm sorry Mum!"

A wave of sickening horror washed over her, "Oh no, Merlin are they… are they still alive?"

Merlin drew back, out of her mother's arms, and gave her mum the closest thing to a glare that Hunith had ever received from her little girl, "Of course they are alive, Mum. Of course. But… they might be injured. I knocked them down with a gust of wind." 

Hunith closed her eyes and focused on calming her own breathing, lest this spirals into some sort of attack, "Is there anyway that they could believe it is natural?" 

Merlin took in a rattling, shuddering breath, as though she was going to speak. But all she managed was a nearly imperceptible shake of her head. 

"Oh, my little bird, I am so sorry."

Merlin gave out a little strangled choking noise and closed her eyes, "I could try to do something with their memories? I have never tried but-"

"No," Hunith's voice was firm and she grabbed Merlin's slight shoulders. Merlin winced in pain, implying that there were more injuries hiding under her frumpy clothes. Hunith lightened her grasp, "that does not seem right to me. Even if you knew what you were doing and how to do it, messing around someone's own mind seems wrong. But especially since you don't know what you are doing, that could turn out very grave indeed. What if they can't remember anything?" 

Merlin gulped and nodded, "What, what are we going to do?"

"I don't know," Hunith said, "but we will do our best to figure something out."

A knock on the door. Hunith grabbed Merlin's wrist and dragged her to the little crawlspace, "Hide." 

Merlin crawled in and Hunith stuffed a blanket in the entrance. 

Taking a deep, calming breath, she rubbed at the wrinkles of her work dress, nerves coursing through her, before going to the door. She went to the door. Relief washed over at the sight that greeted her. A brave faced Will by a bewildered looking Lowri. She opened the door, ushered them in, and locked the door behind them. Lowri went and sat on the old, worn couch. 

There was a heavy silence.

After a period of painful quiet, Lowri cleared her voice and spoke, "So Merlin has… magic." Her own voice did not sound convinced.

"Well," Hunith searched for the words with great care, "she has something. I don't know if I should call it magic, it could be psychic powers or perhaps a divine gift given to her by the Almighty for some unknowable purpose. I have-"

"Oh come off it, Hunny," Lowri snapped, "The girl's surname, the name she herself has chosen to go by, is Merlin for goodness sake!" 

Hunith had, of course, realized the connection between her daughter's name and the mythical character, but when her friend said it so plainly, the obviousness of it smacked her across the face.

Lowri sighed, "Now, don't go all sad eyed on me. I am not about to burn her at the stake. Will says that he would have been seriously injured, or worse, if it were not for your daughter's… magic." 

"I am going to take the blame," Will blurted out. 

Hunith was thrown for a loop, "What?" 

"Can I come out now?" Merlin's muffled voice called out.

Lowri recoiled at the sound, eyes big with fear.

Hunith answered, "Not yet." 

Silence.

"What did you mean, Will?" Hunith gently probed. 

Will looked at her, dried blood crusted on his nose, "In two months time, I am moving to Australia. If there is some sort of fallout, if the boys who attacked us decide to call the cops or what have you, I will say that I did it, I caused the wind. Then Mom and I will just hightail it out of here if need be." 

Hunith looked at the little boy and saw determination. She looked over to her friend, who gave a timid nod, and managed to say, "His father would be so proud." 

Hunith cried. Lowri cried. Crying, like colds, yawning and laughter, can be contagious like that. 

"Can I come out now?" Merlin whined. 

Hunith looked at her teary eyed friend who nodded, "Yes Merlin." 

Merlin stumbled out, some tangled up and tripping over the blanket that had been her door. Will stood up. Merlin walked into his arms, "Thank you. But I don't want you to take the blame. I don't want you to move." 

Hunith's heart fluttered. Perhaps Merlin would find love in her best friend after all. 

"I'll write," Will attempted to comfort the now crying Merlin.

"No you won't," Merlin argued, "you hate writing and your spelling and penmanship is atrocious."

"Alright, I probably won't write all the time, but I'll write on occasion." 

Morgan snorted, a blubbering snotty sound. 

They waited for a fallout. For the boys from Scotland Yard to show up waving their batons, or angry villagers to show up waving their pitchforks. But it didn't happen that way. 

Merlin was unsure if the boys were too afraid that they would not be believed or to afraid of her, but it seemed as if the gang of bullies did not eat them out. 

But there was a shift. It was as if the village suddenly decided to ignore Merlin and her three associates. At church when they were called upon to greet one another, no one was willing to shake Merlin or her mom's hands. Hunith and Lowri's business clients dwindled. 

Merlin's fellow students were so cold, so harsh, with her and Will that and they ended up finishing out the school year homeschooled. 

Lowri was desperate for her escape. June rolled around and Hunith and Merlin accompanied Lowri and Will to Lowri's wedding.

Merlin had created Lowri's wedding dress with her mother. White or white-ish dresses were traditional since Queen Victoria. But Lowri wanted to avoid that to respect her first marriage. Lowri's favorite colour was blue so she asked for a blue dress and something modern but classic.

Hunith went through a dress catalogue for ideas and together, her and Merlin created the concept and made the dress. 

Merlin transformed an old sheet into a beautiful blue fabric, with an art deco silver embroidery and crystal beading. It had a silver caplet built into the design. The silver embroidered headband had a silvery veil attached. 

The wedding was lovely, but the tears threatening to escape Merlin's eyes were not tears of joy. 

Merlin had been arguing that they should move with Will to Australia. Hunith understood where her little daughter was coming from, but knew that it was not to be.

"But they are like family!"

"But they are not family. And even if Lowri was my sister, I would still not be able to move with her. This is her life." 

"That is terrible. Why shouldn't families stay together even when they grow up." 

In the past few days before the wedding Merlin's protestations had ceased. Whether out of hopelessness or respect, Hunith was not sure. 

They had gone to the wedding with Lowri and Will, but had to return home alone. 

Merlin put on a smile, but her eyes had become sad. The sadness that clung to Merlin reflected the sadness that Hunith had cloaked herself in since Balinor left. 

Hunith had a kind but morose nature and it was breaking her heart to see her daughter, who always had such a happy and hopeful disposition, display such a different temperament. 

Merlin was trying to pretend to be happy for her mum's sake. However, for one who had such a big secret to keep, she was an awful liar. 

Will and her loved summer. Not necessarily because of the weather, both had very British complexions and quite burned in the sun, but because of the freedom. They used to go in the woods and just play till dusk. Their days were packed, making up stories and going on imaginary adventures.

The summer freedom served as a cruel reminder of Merlin's loneliness. She had no one to play with. She took to writing down stories based on games Will and her had played. But even that was still a lonely act.

One summer day, Merlin was sitting in the woods on a blanket writing a story. She had sent quite a few to Will but had only received one letter from him. Mail to Australia was quite a voyage after all. 

Then she heard a strange noise. It sounded like a weird bark, or perhaps like a whooping cough. At first she inspected the ground, suspecting to see a dog with a cold, or perhaps that was the sound foxes made? What does the fox say?

But when she heard it again, she realized it came from up above.

The first thought was a monkey. What a monkey could possibly be doing in the woods of Wales, only Merlin and her sizable imagination could understand. Merlin's working theory concerned some sort of traveling circus. 

If her Irishborn mother and English father could meet by chance, or perhaps fate, in a farming field in a tiny Welsh village, and have a love that created a child who has magical powers, then nothing was impossible. Though an escaped monkey from a traveling circus was admittedly improbable, it was not impossible. 

Merlin was searching for the source of the call, and she almost looked past it. Gasping, eyes wide, she pulled back as she stared at an owl. 

Or she assumed that it was an owl of some sort. She had seen a couple of owls in her life, but this one was different. 

First off, it was huge. Easily 84 centimeters, about the height Merlin was at 6 or 7. The feathers were a variety of grey that seemed to mimic the texture and colouration of trees. 

Second of all, it was staring directly at Merlin with a knowing look on its face. 

And finally, it had a letter tied to its foot. 

As Merlin stared at it, it gave another whoop, pointedly at Merlin. Merlin fell to her stomach and covered her eyes. Her eyes being the most at risk to a bird attack. 

The owl called out again, and part of Merlin wanted to try and talk back, perhaps even get the letter off its leg. But Merlin had been trying to be especially well behaved of late to alleviate her mum's distress. Merlin returning home missing an eye or a finger would make her mother sad. 

She grabbed her writing and tucked it into her old and worn leather rucksack, before jumping off the blanket and draping it over her head. Then she ran. Merlin was pretty fast, but her run was rather like someone falling forward. 

She made it to her house.

"Mum?' She called out. No answer. She pushed down the ridiculous fear that the owl monster had eaten her mum, and she crawled up the stairs to the loft. 

Looking out the window, she saw her mother weeding in the garden. 

Then a loud, sharp tap. A flash of grey in the corner of her eye. 

Merlin screamed as she tumbled backward, her magic and the mess of her dirty laundry softening the blow as she crashed to the ground. She blinked up at the ceiling before pulling herself up. 

Summoning her courage, she glanced out the window.

Yep. The giant, probably mythical and possibly man-eating, owl was perched on the outside window seal. 

Upon making eye contact with Merlin, the owl took it's taloned foot and tapped on the glass pane. 

Merlin stared. 

The rolled its head around, and Merlin came to the conclusion that it was the owl equivalent of an exasperated eyeroll. 

The next thing Merlin knew, she was opening the window. The owl hopped right on in. Looking at Merlin it held out its foot that had a letter attached to it. 

Merlin untied it and took the letter. 

It was addressed to her. 

The excitement buzzing through her made her skin tingle and the hair on the nape of her neck and upon her arms raised. 

She opened it quickly and pulled out the letter. 

Reading over the words made her heartbeat faster. 

Tripping over her own feet, she raced down the stairs, flinging the door open with her magic, and to her mum. 

Merlin, crashing to the ground by her mother's feet, panting, caused a sudden surge of panic in her poor dear mum, "What is it, what is wrong?" 

Between frantic breaths, she managed to pant, "Good, good," and handed her mother the now crumpled letter. 

Hunith took it carefully, she examined the parchment,"What is this?"

Merlin, whose breathing was not yet normal but was a bit more under control, said, "Read it."

Hunith read it, but could not believe it, "Merlin, did you write this? Is this one of your stories?" 

Merlin shook her head, "No, you know my penmanship is chicken scratch. An owl brought it to me."

Hunith stared at her daughter for a moment before her eyes returned back to the page, "This must be a joke."

"I do not think so, Mum. The owl is still in our bedroom if you want to go check." 

Hunith, in fact, did want to go check.

The owl did not appreciate the scream that Hunith met the creature with.

"Merlin," after her scream, her breathless voice still managed to be a yell, "I know that you are upset about your friend leaving, but this cannot be real."

The owl preened, puffing out its majestic feathers, apparently offended.

"Mum, I think that it is real." 

They sat on the bed and read the letter together.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WIZARDRY  
Headmaster: Gaius  
(Order of Merlin, Third Class, International Confederacy of Wizards, St. Mungo's Bone and Wand Society)

Dear Miss Merlin,  
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted on a probational basis to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. 

Our Records indicate that you are of muggleborn or half blood descent. For qualification to attend Hogwarts you must attend an introductory course to the Magical World of Albion held at the Wizarding Kingdom of Camelot. The course begins with in-person registatration Saturday, July 31st and a weekend of activities. The official class starts on August 2nd and ends Friday the 13th.

For those who pass, term begins on the 1st of September. 

Yours sincerely,

Helen Mora

Deputy Headmistresses

Merlin thought it was a new chapter in the story of her life. She did not realize that it was the start of a new book in an unfinished series that started centuries ago.


	5. Crossing the Threshold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin goes to the Magical World, the Wizarding Kingdom of Camelot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter that I have been waiting for! 
> 
> This is it! The moment!
> 
> I should have mentioned previously, but I have used some quotes from the tv show in previous chapters, and will do so a good deal in this section, just to ensure that I lay down the proper foundation. But don't worry, most of the story's content will be original. There is another quote from another favorite show of mine, comment if you find it and comment if you don't! (Please comment. Please.)

On the night 30th of July, Merlin laid in a bed night her own, eyes wide open and staring into the darkness. It was a hot, humid day in London, and the tiny, stuffy lodging room. They had the window open, letting in a cool breeze that rustled the curtains. The blankets had been kicked off and were piled on the floor. Her mother was next to her, asleep.

Or not.

"Merlin go to sleep," her mum groaned.

Merlin stilled, "How did you know I was awake?"

"I could feel the excitement radiating off of you."

She couldn't help the big, and undoubtedly goofy, grin that spread across her face, "I am just so excited!"

"I know," her mum sighed, "I have been dreading it. I am going to miss you so." 

"Mum, I love you so much. I am going to miss you. But I get to go to magic school!" 

"If you pass the summer class," her mother reminded her.

Merlin, who had no fear of failure, continued on, "It is like I have been given the greatest birthday gift. Tomorrow I am 11 and get to go to a school for magic." 

"And you have to be up at dawn to get to the train station." 

Earlier today had been Merlin's first time on a train. It was utterly delightful. Also it marked the first time in an automobile. They had offered to pay a nice older man, who was one of Hunith's remaining clients, to drive them in his automobile to Cardiff. He had refused Hunith's money and asked for Hunith's tailoring and laundering work instead. 

He had dropped them off at the train station, Merlin had fallen asleep on the bumpy ride and her mother had to rouse her. They bought their tickets, Hunith knew that the price would be steep and did her best to hide her distress. 

Merlin had watched the landscape change as they rode on the train, and thought it all rather seemed like magic. 

Hunith had packed food, knowing that the sure tempting train food would be too expensive. 

It had been a lovely ride.

And even after such an eventful day, Merlin could feel a tiredness creeping in, but her unbridled enthusiasm was keeping it at bay. 

"Go to sleep, you are not a morning person. You are going to be in for a difficult day if you do not get enough sleep." 

Merlin assured her mother that she would try to go to sleep. Eventually, slumber claimed her. 

But it was not peaceful. In her dreams she saw a castle and a dragon. Merlin tried to will herself to remember, but the forgetfulness stole most of the images. 

"Merlin!" She fell. Rolling off the bed, she was fortunately caught by her fallen blanket.

"Wha'?" She asked.

"I thought I had already woken you up! But you fell back asleep, " Hunith chided, "I thought by the time I came back with breakfast, you would be ready to go!" 

"Go?"

"Yes, go get ready! Now."

Merlin stumbled to the tiny bathroom and started getting ready. Their old farmhouse did not have a bath like this, they needed to hand fill it with a bucket. If she was not in such a hurry, she would enjoy this bath more. 

Her mum threw her clothes on the bathroom counter as she scrubbed herself with soap, "You probably need this."

She got out, dried off with an itchy towel, and got dressed. 

It was Will's old summer Sunday finery. Tan trouser shorts that went to just pass her knees, a short-sleeved white button up shirt with a collar, and a blue vest. Upon inspecting her reflection, she caused her worn shirt to be a brighter shade of white. With some more focus the clothes fit her better. 

She frowned. She looked too much like a boy. Pulling on her shirt, she made it longer, and made the fabric softer and gave it more of a flow. While looking at a clothes catalog, she had seen such shirt dresses for little girls. 

Her mother had put out a plain bobby pin for her hair. Touching it, she willed it into a shiny and sparkly golden coloured hair barette and she clipped it into her bobbed hair. She grabbed her scarf, the one her mother had made from her treasured baby blanket. Running her hands over it she made it look newer and shinier. She tucked it around the collar of her shirt and and tied it loosely.

She came out, steps slow, "How do I look?" 

Hunith sighed, "You are telling me that you could have been altering your clothes that quickly and efficiently this entire time?"

Merlin fidgeted, "No, I have gotten better because of helping you out."

"Well, it you still look like my little tomboy, but I can actually tell you are a girl. And it is definitely more posh."

Merlin smiled while looking down. 

"Now eat, quickly, but don't choke." 

Merlin shoved the food down her throat while her mum packed and cleaned. Then they headed to the King's Cross train station. 

They walked around, even early in the morning, the station was teeming with people.

Merlin was lugging around her suitcase and had her knapsack over her shoulder.

"I do not see platform 9 and three quarters…" Hunith muttered to herself.

Merlin stared at the barrier between the platform 9 and platform 10. And then she saw it. A teenaged boy walked through the barrier. 

She blinked in shock and then smiled. 

"I see it."

"Where?' Her mum asked.

Pointing at the barrier, Merlin whispered, "There."

"I don't know about this," Hunith knew that her daughter was prone to clumsiness. 

"I do," Merlin said, confidence bubbling up in her chest. 

Her mum pulled her into her arms, Merlin nearly dropped her briefcase. 

"I love you," her mum whispered.

"I love you too, mum," she burrowed into her mother, "I love you so much." 

Hunith held her for a minute, then pulled away, holding onto Merlin's shoulders and looking into her eyes, "Emerys Merlin, you are my only child, and you are my heart. Today is your birthday, the greatest day of my life. To the eye your smiling face is like any other. It is every mother’s fate to think her child is special and yet I would give my life that you were not so."

"Mum-"

"Ours is a small village and you are so clearly at odds with people there that if you were to remain I fear what would become of you. This is your chance, my love. I hope and trust that you have it in your heart to find the purpose for your gifts. May God be with you." 

Merlin nodded, too strangled by her emotions to speak. 

Her mother's loving eyes were upon her as she walked through the barrier. 

There was not a huge swarm of children, and she was surprised to see older students within the throng of little kids. She made her way into the train and tried to find an empty compartment. Giving up her quest quickly, her suitcase was quite heavy after all, she saw a compartment that held only one occupant.

The occupant was a small girl, who looked lost and meek. Merlin tapped gently on the window. The girl was startled, but once she recovered, she gave Merlin a little smile, bashful, and waved her hand as to usher Merlin inside. 

Merlin struggled to roll the sliding door open and tumbled through when it finally gave way. Dropping her suitcase as she tripped, it was quite the kerfuffle. She was used to her awkwardness and clumsy nature, but was more embarrassed than usual. Her cheeks were as red as tomatoes, and no doubt her big ears matched. 

Concern etched on the other little girl's face.

"Don't worry," Merlin assured her, "I'm not going to hurt you, I am only a danger to myself."

The little girl was slight, with pale skin, dark straggly hair and big dark eyes. Her smile grew though, and perhaps that was worth Merlin's embarrassment. Merlin took a seat across from the girl 

"Thank you for letting me sit here," Merlin said.

"No, thank you for sitting with me."

The girl was wearing a lovely red lace dress, "I like your dress."

The girl's chin sunk into her chest, "Thank you. It is just my Christmas church dress without the overcoat. I like your haircut, it is very glamorous, like a flapper girl." 

Merlin laughed, "I think that you are the first person besides me to like my hair."

"I know that my mother would never allow something so… daring," the girl admitted. "I am surprised that your parents do."

Merlin smirked, "Mum wouldn't allow it if she was able to."

The girl looked perplexed, "What do you mean?"

"I was like seven or so and decided that I wanted short hair and, ta da, it was short."

"You cut it yourself?" She asked, eyes wide. 

"Well, not really. I just… magicked it?" Merlin shrugged.

"Wow, I wish my magic would work like that."

Merlin could not help the feeling of pride that welled up in her chest, "My name is Emrys Merlin, what's your's?"

"Emrys Merlin?" The girl marveled, "What a magical name! Are your parents magical?"

"Nah, it is just…" Merlin searched for the right word, "fortuitous. Merlin is a bird, a small falcon, and falconry is suspected in my family's far off history. But you still have not answered my question."

The girl blushed, Merlin was a touch envious of what a lovely rosy pink it was, "What was your question?"

Merlin smiled, "What is your name?"

"Oh, right. Freya. Freya Atwater."

"Speaking of magic names! You and I could be characters in our own fantasy novel! Worthy of Lewis Carroll or George MacDonald to have written. Freya and Merlin!"

"I would read that story," agreed Freya. 

They talk. An old lady pushing a trolley stops by and asked if they wanted to buy any treats. Merlin refused politely, holding up her paper bag that contained a smashed jam sandwich. 

Freya, after shyly talking to the nice old lady about the options, bought a stack of pumpkin pasties and cauldron cakes, and a handful of chocolate frogs. The lady had assured Freya that the chocolate frogs did not contain actual frogs. 

The girl, voice barely a whisper, asked if Merlin would like to have some of her goods. 

Merlin looked at her new friend's delicious treats longingly, "What is your favorite sweet?"

Freya looked at the confections in her lap, "Well, I have never tried these, but they all sound good."

"Not of these, just in general." 

The girl contemplated this carefully, "Strawberry shortcake. Why?"

Merlin grinned, "Well, that will be easier."

She took out her large jam sandwich, the bread unevenly cut. Carefully, she ripped it in half. Taking off the top bread, smearing the preserves onto the bottom piece, and put the top piece below the bottom.

With a burst of focus, she turned the bread into shortbread biscuit. Then she turned her attention to the jam. It was blackberry preserves, which would make it a tad more difficult. Merlin could hear Freya gasp. The jam transformed to sliced, macerated strawberries. 

Merlin held it out, "Here you go." 

Freya took it, "That is incredible. It looks lovely."

In turn, Freya handed Merlin a pumpkin past, a cauldron cake and a chocolate frog. 

Freya ate gingerly, "This is delicious. When my mother makes strawberry shortcake, from now on I am going to ask for blackberries to be added. It adds a richer flavor."

"Well, I almost had it."

"It tastes of strawberry," Freya assured her. "Just with a lovely hint of blackberry."

Merlin cackled upon viewing the card that accompanied her chocolate frog, it was Merlin.

Merlin's beard was legendary even amongst Muggle folk. But this picture of him had a comically grouchy face. 

"Well, you both have the same mischievous blue eyes," Freya volunteered.

"Well, better his mischievous blue eyes than his old age spots. He looks like a banana."

Freya laughed while telling Merlin how terrible she was.

They kept chit chatting till they heard the whistle blare. They look out the window. Merlin saw beyond the crimson smoke a golden white castle shining in the summer sun. 

Once the girls saw other students filing through the hall, they gathered their possessions together. They waited for a lull in traffic, then the two made their way out, following the stream of students. 

The kids all congregated together at the gates of the castle. 

A lovely woman stood at the front. She had dark curls, pinned up in front then cascading down. The lady had on a purple gown and a shimmery silvery grey cloak of a gauzy material. 

She smiled, and Merlin immediately loved the endearing gal between her two front teeth.

"Welcome! I am Headmistress Mora, professor of Charms at Hogwarts. This is your introductory course to the Magical World of Albion and to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. This is the third year of this revolutionary venture, where the school and the Ministry of Magic and the Royal Court of Wizarding Camelot all work together to try and best prepare you for integration into Hogwarts and the Magical World. Classes will be taught by Hogwarts staff and Ministry officials. Instrumental to the success of this program is the Hogwarts student volunteers.

"Before the commencement feast, the older student volunteers have organized some educational but entertaining activities in the courtyard. There are tables where you sign in, and then you are free to partake in the festivities. Volunteers that had to take the train come in first."

The older students made their way to the front and the little kids attempted to make a queue, but it was more of a blob. 

Freya and Merlin were towards the back. 

It was fraying, wearing, to have one's hopes suspended so high for so long. Merlin tried to be chivalrous and allow Freya to go first, but thankfully the trembling little girl was too nervous to take her up on that offer. 

Merlin walked to the table. Behind it was a girl with messy blonde hair and dreamy eyes wearing a buttercup yellow robe.

"Hello, first name," she greeted Merlin with a smile.

"First name?" Merlin asked, surprised. At her normal school the teacher always took attendance by last name. 

"Yes, this class uses only first names. Since magical last names and Muggle last names can create issues. Something about power dynamics or classism or something. At Hogwarts I am Princess Elena Godwyn, Princess of the Wizarding Kingdom of Gawant, daughter of King Godwyn, heir to the throne and pureblood. But here I am just Elena."

Merlin, who had been going by her last name for as long as she could remember, had a mini-identity crisis. 

"Well, my first name is Emrys," she offered awkwardly. 

Just Elena scrunched her face together, "That's a wizard name."

"Oh," Merlin said, "is that a problem? Cause of… power dynamics or what have you?"

"It's a wizard name as in it is a boy's name," Elena clarified.

"Oh," Merlin said, embarrassed understanding dawning on her.

Elena shuffled through the papers, looking from a blank piece of parchment and back at Merlin repeatedly, eyes squinting.

"So, you're probably a girl, right?"

Merlin was too gobsmacked to answer.

"Wrong? No, I was right the first time…" she leaned forward, "Wrong?"

"I'm a girl," Merlin finally managed to spitter out. "Uh, Emrys was a family name, my parents thought it was pretty enough to be a girl's name. Among non-magical people the name sometimes gets attention for being weird, but not for being boyish. Most think it is just a weird combination of Emma and Alice."

Elena tapped her chin with her peacock feather quill in thought, "Do you have a nickname?"

Merlin felt some relief, "Well, I actually go by my last name more often than not. You see, my father-"

"Nope, no last names. What else you got? You mentioned Emma and Alice?"

Merlin sighed, "I don't have to go by this forever, do I?"

"Nope!"

Merlin shuffled her feet, "My mum sometimes calls me Em or Emmy."

Apparently satisfied with this, Elena wrote it down on the piece of paper.

"Have fun," she said in a genuine voice and sincere smile, "and don't fail!"

She followed the path the others took into a beautiful courtyard. It was surrounded by trees, including some beautiful apple trees, and bushes. Right in the center was an apple tree that had golden rose colored spring blossoms and bright golden fall apples. The clearly magic tree was surrounded by some plants. But besides the edges and the very center, the rest of the courtyard was an expansive green yard. There were little spread out circles of people, indicating the individual activities. 

Merlin, while her brain was trying to figure out where she should go, and what activity to do, somehow ended walking directly past the center garden of the court and to the previously unseen gathering there. As if she had been called there.

A pretty blonde boy, only about 13 or 14, had apparently finished giving some sort of talk. He handed a little wooden shield to a little boy. The circle shifted, turning into a crescent moon. 

The obviously scared little boy walked forward and turned around. 

"Dueling, with wands and swords, is a difficult art to master. But for a beginner, the best objective is to focus on defense, specifically," he held up his and counted out his points on his fingers, "shielding, dodging and disarming. Here we are doing a shielding exercise." 

Beside him was a big wooden feeding trough, but it was filled with miscellaneous objects. 

He picked up a tomato and held it up, "This is a curse, or jinx or hex or what have you. That," he pointed at the boy standing in his crosshairs, "is a shield charm. Such as protego or protego duo or what have you. I am going to throw this tomato and he is going to shield it." 

The pretty boy lobbed it to the boy who moved the shield and deflected it. 

The next tomato was thrown hard and fast, with accuracy and skill. 

Then the pretty boy just attacked him, throwing a barrage of apples and rocks at the boy. The little boy yelped as a rock caught him in the shin and frantically waved his shield around, unable to fully protect himself. He stumbled backwards and cried out, "Hey, hang on!" 

"That's more like it, give me some moving target practice," the older boy said with a smile.

The boy is running backwards and trips. It was clear that he got his breath knocked out. The older boy starts to advance, picking up his earlier used ammunition off the ground and firing them at the boy as he walked. 

Merlin finds herself running out as she called, "Hey… Come on, that's enough."

The older boy turned to her. He swaggered to her, closing the gap, towering over her, and he asked, voice full of mirth and disbelief and threats, "What?" 

The little boy, pulling himself up, coughed, and cried out a shaky "It's alright."

Merlin looked past the pretty mean boy in front of her to the persecuted child."No."

She looks up, her eyes meeting the attacker's eyes, nervous but willing to stand her ground and stand up for what was right, "You've had your fun, buddy. Leave him be." 

"Do I know you?" There was a flash of something like recognition in his eyes, but she knew that was not what he was getting at.

"Well, not yet. I am-"

The guy was staring at her unflinching, arrogant smile perfectly in place, "But you called me 'buddy.' Yet we are not friends."

A beat. A breath. 

Merlin spoke, "That was my mistake." 

The guy nodded, "Yes, I think so."

"Yeah," Merlin smiled, "I could never have a friend who could be such a pratt." 

The crowd gasped. But the pretty boy's smile only brighten, "Or I, one who could be so stupid." 

The crowd steps back, shrinking in fear, and the pretty boy continued, "Looks like we have our next volunteer. Go on, take his place." 

Merlin walked past him, helped the little boy up and to the side, and returned to the center. With purpose she picked up the shield and held it up. 

The pretty boy with his smug face chuckled, "Tell me, Muggle, do you know how to duel?"

"No, but I know how to fight," Merlin countered, chin up.

"Well, I suggest you learn. With a mouth like that, you are going to need to defend yourself quite a bit." 

"I am a quick learner," Merlin boasted, tightening her grip on the shield. 

The boy tossed a tomato in the air, catching it while his never left Merlin's face. With an arrogant smile and the sun casting a glow upon his mussed hair not unlike a halo, he asked, "D'you want me to help you?" 

Merlin's face hardens, "I wouldn't want to even try if I were you." 

The boy snorted, throwing and catching the tomato once again, a forced casual ease to his manner, but Merlin could see past that and see the sharpness and jagged edges, "Why, what would happen? What would you do to me?"

"Oh, you have no idea," Merlin taunted, even though she also had no idea. But she was not about to let him know that.

"Be my guest, show me what you got."

Merlin could feel her captive heart thrashing within the cage of her chest, she took in a long, quivering breath.

"Come on, then, hold your shield up." 

As soon as Merlin held it up, she could feel the tomato hit it. While she covered her face, he took his opening, and an apple hit her in the shin. 

She closed her eyes. The world stilled. She felt this peaceful release wave over her. 

Her attacker saw her eyes glow, like molten gold, and a silvery blue light erupted from her, wrapping around her. 

The light erupted, crushing over him, and he fell back to the ground.

With blurred vision, he saw a great dragon made out of light and magic.


	6. Revelation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my fabulous, Keillyn! She made this chapter possible. You are wonderful!
> 
> Please review! Reviews are love.

"Stop manhandling me," Merlin whined, "I have powerful magic."

"What you have is detention, which you should be grateful for," the boy was dragging her, pushing her along. "I could have you thrown in jail for that."

"Jail?" Merlin huffed, "You're a volunteer at a school function. Who do you think you are, the King of magic?"

He kicked open a side door that led into the castle, "No, I'm his son- Arthur."

Merlin started laughing, hysterically, and would have been rolling on the floor laughing if this Prince Arthur chap had not caught her as she tripped. The heavy door almost crushed them.

"What is so funny?" He demanded.

"You!" She managed to choke out between bursts of laughter. She had tears in her eyes.

He sighed, "Well, I do have a sparkling sense of humor, but this is a bit ridiculous."

"It's a lot ridiculous," Merlin laughed, "cause you're Arthur of Camelot!"

"That usually inspires more awe than amusement."

Merlin, struggling to catch her breath as she rubbed her tear streaked face with her hand, "Oh, you'll get the joke eventually." 

"I hope not." 

The pretty boy, Arthur, practically tossed her into a room. 

The room was small and windowless, with an old desk and two chairs set on a dusty oriental rug. There was an iron wrought chandelier, looking like a crown, hanging above the desk. She sat down on the cushioned chair and laid her head on her crossed arms, glaring at Arthur who stood at the door. The light that filtered into the room around Arthur was the only source of light, as the candles in the chandelier are not lit. 

"You will stay here, I am going to go inform a professor," he commanded, an air of superiority that Merlin felt was duly undeserved. He closed the door with a definitive thud, extinguishing the source of light.

She closed her eyes against the darkness. 

After not sleeping well last night and using an absurd amount of magic within one day, exhaustion invaded and conquered her. Her head ached, a deeper ache than the apple she took to the temple would have caused, and her bones ached and her everything ached. 

She kept her eyes closed, telling herself it was just to try and alleviate her headache. It had nothing to do with her being tired or her fear of the dark. Her head was pounding and her emotions were raging within her mind rampantly. Too have gone from such a glorious precipice, raised up with the wings of hope, only to come crashing down to the rocky depths of despair, had sent her into a state of shock. 

Merlin tried to focus on her internal source of peace and joy. She concentrated on her breathing and happy memories. 

But within a few minutes, Merlin had drifted to sleep. A deep slumber, the kind that robs us of time and strips us of any memory of our dreams. 

Drool oozing from her mouth, a whistling snore from her nose, the works. 

This unconscious and embarrassing state was how she was when someone came upon her. The door opened and closed. The loud bang awoke Merlin, startled her. 

In the complete darkness she could not see, but she could sense someone… or something.

Dun, dun, DAH!

Merlin heard a voice whisper, "Incendio."

A little ribbon of a flame burst into the world, dancing around, swirling gracefully, and lighting the candles above her head. She gasped and pushed herself away from the table. 

The old man, with wavy snow white hair and old, wise eyes, gave her a look brimming with significance and candles cast shadows upon his face. Merlin did not comprehend it entirely, but knew this was someone who meant business.

"Who are you?" 

"Well," Merlin was careful with her words and tone, "I got this letter saying I was a wizard?"

He sighed in annoyance, moving on to another tactic, "I just got the most peculiar report from Arthur. But I need to hear it from you. What did you do?"

Merlin looked around, eyeing the closed door longingly, "Uh…" 

The man, much more excitable and easily agitated than his wise eyes deceptively suggested, continued to badger her, "Tell me!"

"I don't know what happened," Merlin defended, but upon seeing the man's unconvinced and decidedly unimpressed glare, she amended her statement. "I don't know what exactly happened. I was being physically attacked by Arthur," she could not contain the unladylike snort that accompanied his name, "so I protected myself. With, you know, magic. "

"If anyone else had seen that…"

"This is a summer class to prepare for going to a school of magic. What is the big deal?"

The old man hesitated before he spoke, "Magic is… dangerous. The use of magic is strictly regulated within the Magical World of Albion, especially in the Wizarding Kingdom of Camelot. Underaged magic is prohibited unless under direct observation and instruction from an educator. Accidental magic is monitored. Either one could get you expelled not only from Hogwarts, but from the Magical World."

"Wow," Merlin whispered, equal measures fear and disbelief. "I am not expelled, am I?"

The old man shook his head, "No. But you should be thankful that Arthur thought it best to come to me and not to his father."

Merlin rolled her eyes and muttered, "Oh yes, so thankful for that pratt."

Whether the old man's hearing had gone and he simply didn't hear her or if he had benevolently ignored her comment, she was not sure, "I want to know where you learnt to do it?"

"Nowhere," Merlin offered truthfully. 

"Then how is it you know magic?" He insisted. He paced around the small room, brown robes fluttering, "Arthur is just a boy and believes it was accidental magic, but his description paints another story entirely. Did you say an incantation?"

"No."

The man continued his verbal onslaught, "Where did you study?" 

She cannot look at him, and her head hurt and her eyes stung with tears she refused to cry, "Well…"

The man snapped, "Answer me!" 

"I've never studied magic or been taught."

"You're lying to me, girl," he spat, smacking his hand upon the desk, "this is important."

Merlin sighed, a mournful sound. She was so tired, "And what is it that you would have me say?" 

"The truth!" 

She stood up, chair falling to the ground with unnatural force, the wood cracking sounded like lightning striking, "I told you the truth, but it was not good enough for you."

The man's gaze seemed to soften, if only ever so slightly, "Tell me." 

Merlin walked to the wall where she imagined a window should be. Were the other students out, having fun? Or had Merlin's impromptu nap been longer than she realized? Were they eating dinner? Or fast asleep in their beds? Had she missed the all too important bonding time, dooming her to a friendless existence? She laid her forehead upon the cool, rough stone. 

"I was born like this," she said. "I was born with magic. And I grew up knowing no one like me, never fitting in. Then I get this letter. A wonderful letter telling me that I am a wizard, that there is a magical world. And I finally started to believe that, maybe, just maybe, there's a place where I belong. That I am not alone. And here I am, on the most exciting day of my life, on my birthday no less, and some mean old stranger is yelling at me about how wrong I am and calling me a liar." 

Her shoulders shook with suppressed sobs.

"Oh dear," the man said, "I am sorry."

"You should be," the little kid said. "You were being mean."

"I have apologized," the man said, indignant.

"It wouldn't hurt to apologize again," Merlin was all defiance and sharp edges now.

"I apologize. Again. Now, is there any other grievances that you wish to air?" he was clearly being patronizing, but Merlin suspected he meant to do so in a lighthearted way. 

She nodded, her head bumping softly against the wall at the movement, "Prince Arthur of Camelot," she injected the most venom that she could into the name, "hit me in the head with an apple." 

"I could see the a-ppeal."

She looked over her shoulder and tried to glare, tried to keep the smile off of her face, "Did you intend that to be a pun?"

The old man smirked, "Perhaps, but that is neither here nor there. Now, as I noticed you called me an old stranger-" he paused, waiting for an apology. Merlin did not offer any. He continued, "I realized that I did not properly introduce myself. My name is Gaius."

"Gaius?" Merlin questioned, her foggy mind recognized that name somehow… She turned around, leaning against the wall. Then horror etched on her face as the answer came to her, "The Headmaster."

"If I am lucky," he nodded. "My position has been on the cutting block for some time. I spent my youth as a healer and my old age as an educator, but I am not one for the dicey game of politics."

"Is being the Headmaster of a school that political of a position?" Merlin asked.

"Oh yes, rife with politics. And I am sure that you will be relieved to hear that I will not be expelling you. But you will have detentions with me." 

"For the whole two weeks?" Merlin squeaked, lifting her toppled chair up as if to hide behind it.

"Oh no, of course not," Headmaster Gaius said. Merlin took a breath of relief. "Probably once a week for the first semester. "

"What?" 

"With a natural magic like yours, it is for the best if you have sessions with me." 

Merlin's righteous rage wilted, "Like additional magic classes?" 

"Yes, like that."

"Oh alright," Merlin sighed, in a perhaps exaggerated manner, dropping into her chair with a strangely ungraceful Grace. 

Gaius smirked, "It is detention, you do not have to agree with it." 

"Well, too bad, too late, I've already agreed," Merlin teased.

Gaius leaned on the desk, curiosity shining from him, "What is your name, child?"

"...Arthur. Arthur is the name of the student you have sentenced to a half a year's worth of detions."

Headmaster Gaius looked Unamused, with a capital U, "What is your name?"

"Emmy."

He nodded, "Emmy what?"

"Just Elena told me that we are not to use last names, on account of power dynamics."

Gaius crinkled his already wrinkled forehead, "I could make it a year of detentions. You could be washing cauldrons with your own toothbrush for a year."

Merlin laughed, "Alright, my name is," she summoned all the drama and mystique that she could muster as she delivered, "Emrys Merlin."

He shook his head, disappointed, and he turned, "A year it is."

"Wait, what, no," Merlin's words stumbled after the Headmaster. "Really, my name is Emrys Merlin. Most people call me Merlin."

His voice was dry, "Merlin? As in Merlin the Great? The strongest wizard in the history of magic?" 

"Or Merlin like the species of small falcon?" She suggested, voice sheepish and her shoulders shrugged. 

"Emrys, the name meaning immortal, that was the magical title given to the Great Wizard in the prophecies of the Old Way?"

"Um," Merlin was growing uncomfortable, "my father originally wanted to name me Merlin Merlin, but my mum objected. I myself would have liked being Merlin Merlin, and my mum has called me Merlin ever sense as a way of giving my father what he wanted. Emrys is an old family name on my father's side." 

Headmaster Gaius asked, voice thick with reverent wonder, "Heavens above, are you Balinor's child?"

The only person that she had ever heard say that name was her mother. 

The shock on her face must have been obvious. 

"Balinor was cast out of the Magical World when the Purification occurred."

Merlin blinked, "What?"

Gaius sat down, across from Merlin, "There has always been magic. Long ago, in a time of myth, in a world of legend, magic lived in the Muggle world. But then the Great Purge happened, the Muggle Kingdom of Camelot made all magic illegal and sought to exterminate magic from the world. So many were lost."

Merlin took a shuddering breath and looked down at the table. The wood texture became a blur.

"Those who were able to escape banded together and used their magic to create a barrier between Camelot and the Wizarding Kingdom of Camelot. Some years later Merlin and King Arthur came to the Wizarding Kingdom of Camelot and they fortified the barrier between the Magical World and Camelot with their combined magicks. Under King Arthur Pendragon the Kingdom flourished. But you see, the good magic users and the bad, the light magical creatures and the dark, were all trapped together " 

Merlin nodded. 

"Thirteen years ago, tensions were high within the community. King Uther banned dark magic, dark magic users and dark magical creatures." 

A pause. A breath, "What does that have to do with my father?"

Gaius's voice hushed, a whispering wind, "Was Balinor Ambrose Merlin the one who taught you magic?"

Merlin huffed, looking away, "Back to this. Nobody has taught me magic… I've, I've never even met my father. My mum and I didn't know anything about him being a wizard."

"Your father was not just a wizard," Gaius delivered the statement with such grandeur, such dramatic flair, that Merlin's heart leapt. But then his voice darkened, "Balinor Ambrose Merlin was one of the last Dragon Lords."

Merlin mouth opened and her eyes widened in shock. Then it transformed into a grin, "Dragon Lord? And I thought just being a wizard was the bees-knees. Dragon Lord, that is brilliant! Do you think I will get to be a Dragon Lord?" 

"No, I suspect not. Dragon Lords, as the name applies, is a role for a man. Handed down from father to son."

Great, first she had to wear dresses to church, now she could not be a Dragon Lord. 

"Dragons are, as you can imagine, classified as Dark Magical Creatures, and, by extension, so too are the powers involved in being a Dragon Lord." 

Horror crept into her spirit, a strangling vine. Constricted by fear, it hurt to breathe, it took her some time to collect herself enough to ask, "Did my father… Did he get executed?"

"Uther? The descendant of King Arthur Pendragon the First? Kill the last…" Gaius sought out Merlin's eyes, "well, now second to last, heir of Merlin? Killing Lord Balinor Merlin would have caused a riot. He got banned from Camelot, but not even from the Magical World of Albion. Sure, as High King Uther was able to ban some specific magicks and magical creatures throughout the Wizarding Kingdoms, but mostly the rules apply just for Camelot. I always imagined him living in Nemeth. He thought that the woodland kingdom was beautiful."

"Nemeth, you think my father might be there?" Merlin's tone was wistful, brimming with a dreamy sort of hope.

"Ah, I speak as an old man speaks, out of nostalgia and wishful thinking. Alas, I have not heard from Balinor since the Purification."

"Oh," Merlin was crestfallen. 

"Now, a peer helper will be along soon to take you to your dorm and get settled."

Merlin gave a weak nod.

"I will talk to you later to confirm the details of your detention schedule," he opened the door.

"Wait," Merlin called. Headmaster Gaius turned to her, "Would you- I mean- is there a way that you could find my father for me?"

Gaius sighed, "As a high ranking member in Uther's Court, I am not allowed to seek out those that defy the law of Camelot. However, I can ask around. But I offer no guarantee, many of those that were banished from Camelot have no desire to be found." 

Merlin was eager to thank him, but the door closed before she could finish her speech. 

She looked up at the iron crown lantern, looked at the burning candles, and thought of dragons. The golden dragon from her dream flew through her mind with his mighty wings. 

An ever so gentle rap at the door broke her trance, "Um, come in?" 

The door opened slowly and a head peeked in. Dark curly hair and a bashful smile greeted Merlin, "Hello there, what is your name."

"I am Em, but most people just call me idiot. Are you the peer helper here to, well, help me?" 

The girl stepped fully into the room, looking down, "I saw what you did. It was so brave."

Merlin blushed, a sunburnt tomato, "Thank you."

"I asked to be your peer helper. I cannot believe that I got selected to be a part of the peer educational program. I am honored to get to assist you in any way that I can." 

She had on the same yellow robe as Elena did, only this girl's robe was made of a less luminous material. Was the color of the robe indicative of what Kingdom you were from. 

"Thank you," Merlin repeated.

"My name is Gwen," the girl said with a smile. 

Merlin's eyes widened, "Gwen, that doesn't happen to be short for Guinevere, does it?

Gwen scrunched up her face in adorable confusion, "No, Gwen is short for Gwendolyn."

"Gwendolyn is a lovely name," Merlin sighed in relief. Then, just better safe than sorry she asked, "You don't know a boy named Lancelot, do you?" 

The girl blushed, a lovely shade on her tawny skin. Merlin's heart thrummed, but the girl spoke, "Like Guinevere and Lancelot? No, definitely not. There is a boy, a year below me, his name is Lance… or Luke or Lucas or something like that, but no Lancelot for me. I would not want to be Guinevere. Who'd want to marry Arthur?"

Merlin snorted, "Not me." 

"Come along, I will show you to our dorm," Merlin followed her, catching up so she could be by Gwen's side. 

They walked out of the same door Arthur, Prince Arthur of Camelot, had dragged her through. It was twilight, streaks of sunset outlined a royal purple, star encrusted sky. They went through the courtyard, and walkedaround the edge. 

"Aren't our dorms in the castle?"

"No," a dull edge of resentment, "I am glad that the King allows us to stay in his Kingdom, he would not trust us to be in the same castle where he sleeps." 

Merlin made a funny face, "What does he think, one of us little first years has it in for him?"

Gwen made no move to answer. 

They finally came to the building, out behind the castle. Gwen lead her in, and up a thousand stairs. Merlin resorted to climbing up using her hands and feet, which evoked a delighted giggle from Gwen. 

"Here we are," Gwen said and knocked a melodious little ditty on the door. She called, "It is me, Gwen." 

"Come in."

A young woman sat on a bed, legs curled up underneath her. She had blonde hair pulled back in a sensible, loose bun and, a blue robe. 

She pulled out a wand and pointed it directly at Merlin, "Move and I curse you." 

Merlin's hands flew up, a sign of surrender, '"What?"

"Who are you?" She demanded.

"I'm um, um…" 

Gwen interjected, unruffled, "Forridel, this is Emmy. She is one of the students in our group."

"How do you know? I am the leader of this group, and I didn't see her at the gathering or supper."

Gwen smiled, "Headmaster Gaius told me about it. She was in detention." 

"They gave me the troubled one," Forridel sighed. 

"Oh no, she's not troubled," Gwen assured her.

Merlin chimed, "No, certainly not troubled. Arthur is just a pratt." 

That was met with a soft, shy smile and a nod, and the faintest flicker of amusement gleamed in Forridel's eyes. She put the wand back into her pocket.

"And I will take care of this one," Gwen declared. 

Forridel sent a not fond glance sideways and Merlin followed her eyes, to a girl. The tiny, beautiful girl sat on her bed primly. She had her golden curls perfectly arranged with a scattering of braids woven in. Her matched her ruffled, golden dress. Delicate, lovely, she looked like what Merlin imagined Thumbelina would look like. Like a fairy. 

The girl took the harsh look as her cue, "Hello, I am Lady Sophia Tir-Mor."

"No titles and no last names, remember?" Forridel reminded Sophia. 

Sophia smiled, "Oh dear, I blame my proper wizarding upbringing, formal introductions are such a hard habit to break.," 

"Hi, um, I'm… Em or Emmy," Merlin replied.

"It is… nice to meet you. Are you half blooded or Muggle born?" 

"Um… I don't know?"

Forridel snapped, "No half-blood, no Muggle born, no pureblood talk. We are all equals." 

Sophia added on, "Here." 

Forridel sighed, returning to her book.

Gwen touched Merlin's shoulder, and Merlin looked at her. She had a kind face, "Here is your bed." 

Merlin's suitcase was laid on top of it. She opened it up in search of her pajamas. 

She heard a knock and turned to the door.

Forridel, hand in her pocket, called out, "Who is it?"

"Tickety-Boo, with provisions for the prisoner," came an odd voice. It was a bit high pitched and squeaky. 

"Wait, am I the prisoner?" Merlin asked even as Forridel told the person to come in.

The door did not open.

Then a creature appeared in the room. Merlin yelped and fell back in her bed, her suitcase falling and slipping all over. 

The creature looked almost human, but not. It had huge ears, that looked like bat wings, a large, pointy, upturned nose, and large, bulbous, brown eyes. It was short, only around three feet or so. There was some sparse light brown hair upon its otherwise bald head. It wore some tattered lace thingamabob. It was equal parts adorable and hideous. 

"Hello there," Merlin greeted, feeling embarrassed by her fearful reaction.

The creature glared, a very noticeable act with its eyes being so gigantic. It held out a silver tray with an ornate silver cloche. 

"Is that for me?" Longing tinged her voice, she had not realized how hungry she was till this moment.

"If you are the one who attacked poor Master Prince Arthur Pendragon sir, then it is for you," the creature, Tickety-Boo as it had called itself, was going for subtle and missed. 

"Oh, yes, I guess that is me," Merlin admitted. 

"Tickety-Boo is Lord Morgan Corvus Pendragon's house elf, but he is also loyal to Master Prince Arthur Pendragon sir!" 

Merlin repeated, "House elf?"

"House elves are magical creatures that help out around the house and… such," Gwen explained.

"Hello Miss Gwen," Tickety-Boo's whole demeanor shifted, instantly bright and bubbly, "Tickety-Boo remembers you fondly, you are even taller!"

Gwen nodded, "It is nice to see you too, Tickety-Boo."

"Is there anything that he can do for Miss Gwen?" He asked, ears raising enthusiastically.

"You could help take care of my friend here."

His ears dropped, "Your friend? But she attacked Master Prince Arthur Pendragon!"

Gwen tried to smother her smile, "Arthur is one of those real rough, tough save the world kind of boys. And she didn't even hurt him. Look at her, she is a little girl, almost as small as a house elf." 

The house elf gave her a critical once over, examining her, "She does look sort of… I think the word Master Prince would use is wimpy." 

Merlin released an indignant, "Hey." 

"Arthur scared her, to her he was big and scary, and she protected herself. It is just a big understanding," Gwen explained.

Tickety-Boo blinked and nodded, "Oh, Tickety-Boo understands now. The prisoner can have food then." 

He floated it over to Merlin's bed and using the same magical technique he lifted the lid off. 

Merlin took a deep breath, enjoying the aroma. Roasted golden potatoes smothered in gravy and herbs, succulent chicken, peppery green beans. 

"That looks incredible, thank you, thank you Tickety-Boo." 

Tickety-Boo looked at his large feet, curling his toes in a bashful manner, "You are welcome, prisoner." Then he disappeared. 

Merlin greedily attacked the food.

She ohhed and ahhed over the scrumptious meal. Sophia turned up her perfect little nose at it. 

The door opened and Merlin looked up, and, with her mouth full of food, squealed, "Freya!" 

Freya's hair was wet, fresh out of a bath .erlin deduced, and she was wearing a white nightgown.

"Hello," she greeted.

"Oh, you know Emmy?" Gwen asked, "That is nice." 

After Merlin demolished her meal. Her and Freya whispered till they drifted to sleep. 

In that state between wakefulness and sleep, her mind ran wild. She thought of the day she had. It was certainly not what she had expected. It was the best and the worst birthday she ever had. Magic hummed inside of her, a lullaby that lulled her into slumber.


End file.
